Shadows of Kilvus

Forged Alliance Book 6

Anthony James

Contents

The Chamber

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Endurus

Other Science Fiction Books by Anthony James

© 2021 Anthony James

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The right of Anthony James to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author

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The Chamber

It was near dark in this place. The alloy walls and ceiling merged with the gloom to produce an effect that was not far from a uniform grey. Despite the thick insulating layers of his combat suit, Captain William Flint shivered.

In the centre of this huge room was a cylinder of metal, twelve metres high and with a diameter of twenty-five, and perhaps fifty metres from where he was standing. Had Flint not known differently, he might have imagined the cylinder to be a thousand years old or more. Certainly the mustiness which clung to the Ancidium gave the impression of eternities, fought and endured.

“We will enter,” said Research Lead Nivix-Rol.

Flint glanced towards the Daklan. She had dusky red skin with perfect, alien features and the contrast provided by the upturned fangs protruding from her lower jaw only served to increase his fascination.

Turning to look behind, Flint checked on the group who’d accompanied him to the chamber. His usual bridge crew were close by, their expressions hard and their eyes distant, as if they were imagining themselves anywhere but here. Commander Jo Larson offered him a tight smile, but the others kept within themselves.

A few paces farther, a platoon of soldiers hung near the wall as if they took comfort from the illusory cover it offered. They all carried a weapon of one sort or another, though they wouldn’t be needed for this mission.

“Fine,” said Flint. “Let’s go.”

The group set off, with RL Nivix-Rol at the front. A door – hardly larger than any other door - opened in the cylinder and faint yellow light spilled out. Squinting, Flint made out steps, leading upwards.

“Remember what I told you,” said Captain James Vance on the platoon comms. “Take what’s coming and act like it’s the easiest thing you ever did.”

Not one of the soldiers answered – not even with a wisecrack.

RL Nivix-Rol climbed the steps. The stairwell was only wide enough for one and Flint followed, feeling his leg muscles strain against the high risers and the weight of his loadout. At the top, a lone figure stood in silhouette, motionless and watching, like an executioner sizing up the condemned.

Flint finished his climb and entered a circular room with a ten-metre diameter and a four-metre ceiling. It was colder here than elsewhere and the cause of that chill floated in the centre of the room - the one-point-five-metre grey cube of a modified obliterator core would be instrumental in the coming treatment.

Around the edge of the room were bucket seats with harnesses, and above each seat, a compact medical robot floated. The air throbbed unpleasantly and, while the mustiness remained, it was accompanied by the scent of cut metal – an odour Flint associated with technology in its rawest form.

A team of medical staff – maybe twenty in total - were present, poring over handheld tablets, or inspecting the treatment robots. The figure Flint had seen from the stairwell was another Daklan and she studied him like she was considering whether to eat his liver or his kidneys first. It was a talent the aliens had and Flint no longer felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

“Research Lead Tivar-Ank?” Flint guessed. His voice through the chin speaker sounded muffled, though the atmosphere was perfectly breathable.

The Daklan smiled widely, as if delighted to find that her prey had mastered the use of language. “That is right, Captain William Flint. You have been briefed – I assume you are ready.”

“How many people died on the last hardening?”

“None,” said RL Tivar-Ank. “And none to the hardening before that. It is why you are here.” She made a sweeping gesture around the chamber’s perimeter and spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Place your suit helmets and weapons on the floor, and take your seats.”

“Let’s get this done,” said Flint, heading for the seat directly opposite the entrance. As he reached for the fastenings on his helmet, a link was made to his comms unit.

“The internal monitors tell me you’re in the chamber, Captain Flint,” said Fleet Admiral Carl Recker. His voice was utterly calm, which Flint knew from experience meant his commanding officer was feeling anything but tranquil.

“Yes, sir,” said Flint. “We should be ready for the procedure in the next few minutes.”

“RL Moseley has made a couple of last-minute changes to Oblex#12,” said Recker. “The stasis field will bring you closer to zero-time than the previous hardening runs, which he believes will reduce your mind’s ability to perceive the distress your body will experience.”

Recker didn’t pull any punches. He didn’t bother with mights or maybes. This was going to hurt.

“The treatment is going to pay dividends, sir,” said Flint.

“I hope so,” said Recker. The façade of calm fell away and he snarled. “This war demands constant sacrifice and I’ve had enough of it!”

Flint couldn’t think of anything to say, so he kept quiet.

“Good luck, Captain Flint,” said Recker after a moment.

“Thank you, sir.”

The comms link ended and Flint unclipped his helmet. With the seals released, the constriction around his neck lessened and he pulled the helmet over his head in a smooth motion.

Having placed his gear on the floor, Flint lowered himself into his chosen seat, finding the angle too reclined for his liking. Fastening the harness across his chest, he stared up at the medical robot which hovered silently on its gravity drive.

A member of the medical team – a human with a lined forehead and grey hair, who didn’t introduce himself – arrived and leaned across to inspect Flint’s harness, before reaching up and pushing a button on the medical robot. The man’s smile was empty and Flint didn’t attempt to return one of his own.

RL Tivar-Ank began talking from where she was standing near Oblex#12.

“You have all been briefed on the procedure,” she said. Her voice was melodic and soothing, which were good traits to have in her position. “Once the medical robots place you into a comatose state, Oblex#12 will create a near-zero-time stasis field in this room. After that, you will be exposed to extractor energy until your bodies become resistant.” Tivar-Ank took a deep breath, the first sign she had an emotional attachment to what was happening. “This will not be pleasant, but the alliance needs your bravery.”

With that, the Daklan headed for the door and the other medical personnel followed. They wanted to be out of the chamber as quickly as possible and were poor at disguising the fact.

The exit closed and Flint couldn’t stop himself from looking across at Commander Larson. She was already facing his way and met his eyes without speaking.

Flint held her gaze even as spindly metal arms emerged from the medical bots above every seat. Six of the seven arms which poised above his body held a needle of one sort or another, while the last arm ended in a device which resembled a cross between a tiny rotating saw and a drill.

A smoothly dispassionate voice emerged from speakers embedded in the chamber ceiling. “The procedure is scheduled to last for one second and will start in thirty seconds,” said the monitoring computer.

As soon as the voice finished speaking, one of the needles plunged into Flint’s thigh and injected him with a numbing fluid.

Painkiller.

The medical robot stabbed him with a second needle – this time in the shoulder. Almost immediately, Flint felt sleepy. His eyes became heavy and they wanted to close. Through stubbornness, Flint resisted and was granted the sight of a third needle – a big one - being thrust into his abdomen. A fourth one followed into his neck, the pain of it remote yet unwanted.

Above his head, the remaining two needles were just visible, their sharp points only a couple of inches above his skull. Then, he heard the high-pitched whine of a drill, the sound of which turned into a dull grinding as it contacted bone.

The powerful drugs did their work. Flint descended into a coma and then the extractor was switched on.

For a single second of normal time, Oblex#12 maintained a near-zero-time stasis field. For Flint and everyone in the chamber, that second lasted for what they would have perceived as many days, had they been conscious enough to comprehend the passing of time. During that second, their bodies were exposed to constant extractor energy, set at a level designed to induce resistance, rather than to kill.

When the stasis field ended, Flint was brought out of his coma. While in theory he should have felt nothing and known nothing, like the personnel who had undergone the hardening before him, Flint retained memories of intolerable agony.

On the plus side, nobody died, and when the treatment was over, Flint and everyone else were taken to a makeshift recovery centre - a place which had been hastily furnished with equipment brought to the Ancidium on one of the alliance’s heavy lifters.

As happened so often during the war against the Kilvar, Flint was denied an opportunity to recuperate. After less than thirty minutes in the recovery centre, a message on his portable communicator arrived, letting him know it was time to leave.

A short time later, and after a handful of glistening needles had been extracted from his flesh, Flint rolled off his bed and prepared for a resumption of his duties.

Chapter One

Commander Larson had not been summoned, but she’d emerged from the chamber looking as fresh as if she’d woken from an afternoon nap, and had therefore discharged herself from the recovery room after the initial tests on her physical wellbeing were complete. Having received no updated orders, she accompanied Flint towards the command and control area of the vessel.

They didn’t have far to travel – along a few dreary corridors and through a handful of intersections. Still, Flint appreciated the chance to stretch his legs, the muscles of which had become tight following his time in the chamber.

Physically, he felt almost fine, though it was as if an insulating barrier existed between his body and mind, helping the latter believe that everything was hunky-dory, when in reality it was anything but. Doubtless the drugs he’d been pumped full of would soon wear off, and then he’d likely be advised by the medical teams to take a hefty dose of Frenziol-15 to bring him to an even keel.

It was easier for Flint to control his anger if he didn’t dwell on the matter.

“What did Admiral Recker want to discuss?” asked Larson.

“I don’t know,” said Flint. “He sounded like he was on edge.”

“And now you’re on edge as well.”

“It’s hard not to be.”

“He’s hoping your unconscious brain had some insight while you were in the chamber.”

“To see if I’ve managed to out-guess the universe.”

“You shouldn’t joke about it,” said Larson, her expression serious.

“I’m not joking,” said Flint truthfully. “It’s just hard to get my head around this idea that I can—” he fumbled for the words. “Predict the future.”

“That’s not what you’re doing, William. You’re getting a feel for what might happen and you respond naturally in a way that makes it more likely you’ll mould that future.”

“Maybe if I was offered a chance to talk to someone about my expectancy delta, I’d be able to put my talents to good use.”

It was hard to be sure in the near gloom, but Flint thought Larson’s cheeks turned the faintest of pinks. Ever since the Lavorix wars, she’d been in the know, while Flint always seemed to be outside looking in – at least when it came to the inner workings of military high command.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Flint said softly.

“Admiral Recker doesn’t always have faith in numbers and algorithms, but he has faith in you.” Larson turned her head. “If you believe he’s holding back on something, it’s because he’s frightened to influence you.”

“And then I’ll hesitate,” said Flint in understanding. “Or modify my behaviour to fit a predictive model spat out by a hundred obliterator cores.”

Larson changed the subject. “The Ancidium is still at Terrani,” she said, tapping the side of her head to indicate she’d heard it on the comms.

“Filling this spaceship’s storage bays to even a fraction of their capacity is going to take months.”

“It’s something.”

“A way of killing time until we figure out how best to hit the Kilvar.”

“And to give us time to train enough of our officers to pilot the warships the Lavorix already built.”

The Ancidium was carrying hundreds of Lavorix battleships – far more than the alliance were able to crew on top of the existing fleet. While these battleships combined into a fearsome offensive fleet, Flint was more interested in the seven part-built Laws of Ancidium, the construction work on which was currently ongoing. From experience he knew that just a single one of these spaceships could defeat potentially hundreds of smaller vessels. Bringing the new Laws of Ancidium into a state of combat readiness was vital.

Even more vital was pulling out useful intel on the Kilvar from the Ancidium’s databanks. So far, the task wasn’t proving easy.

A comms channel formed and a ship-wide broadcast was sent to Flint’s suit computer.

Prepare for Gateway: 30s.

“Well, shit,” said Flint.

“I wonder if your time in the chamber will make it easier on you,” said Larson. She knew how much Flint suffered the transitions.

Flint walked faster. “I’ll soon find out. I’m more interested to learn why we’re leaving Terrani.”

Prepare for Gateway: 10s.

It was too late for Flint to try hiding his weakness – even had he been conceited enough to try and fool Larson – and he simply sat down with his back against the passage wall and clenched his jaw.

The gateway came and went, though the hardware module was too far away for the thumping expulsion of energy to reach Flint. Past transits had left him with debilitating pain and nausea. This time was different - the symptoms were the same, but their intensity was so far reduced that Flint shook them off in a few seconds.

“Better,” he said, pushing to his feet. “Much better.”

“Everything’s linked,” said Larson. “Lightspeed transits, gateways, death tech. We put ourselves through crap our bodies were never meant to cope with.”

“And when we’re acclimatised to one, we can handle the others,” said Flint. He didn’t see any logical reason for a link, but he was damned glad to learn that he’d gained something from the chamber.

“You don’t sound impressed.”

Flint resumed his walk. “I’m happy for myself, Commander, and for everyone else who’s been inside the chamber. We’ve got billions more in the alliance who we’ll never be able to treat in time.”

The two of them passed an intersection and Flint looked in both directions. Left, the corridor went on seemingly forever. Right, it ended at another intersection a few hundred metres away. A half-dozen Lavorix corpses lay dead on the floor – dark shapes and guns. The clean-up work hadn’t started yet and the disposal of what might well be many billions of corpses was way down the priority list. There was no rush – the Ancidium’s life support would stop the bodies from rotting anytime soon.

“It’s been three weeks since we captured this spaceship,” said Flint.

“More like five weeks for us given how that single second in the chamber was stretched out.”

“This is the longest period I can remember without anyone or anything shooting at me.”

“You’re worried,” said Larson. She didn’t miss much. “You think that because we haven’t encountered any Kilvar, they’re up to something.”

“What if the alliance is no longer important to them?”

“Because they’re on the brink of ascendancy,” said Larson with a nod. “The Kilvar are confident they can secure the life energy they need from a species that isn’t humanity and isn’t the Daklan.”

“And they’re focusing elsewhere, maybe having withdrawn their fleets from the hunt,” said Flint.

“Endgame,” said Larson.

“And we know so little about what the Kilvar ascendancy entails,” said Flint. “Or where it’s going to happen.”

“Or even if it needs to happen at a specific location,” said Larson.

“I think there’ll be a focal point,” said Flint. “I don’t know why I’m so sure, but I am.”

“The Lavorix and the Kilvar were able to fight for so long because they didn’t have the vulnerability of a fixed home base,” said Larson. “The Meklon were tied to their planets and so are the people of the alliance.”

“While the Lavorix and Kilvar could go anywhere they pleased and safety was only ever a gateway or a lightspeed transit away.”

“If the Kilvar need to gather for their ascendancy, they might soon find they’re a much easier target.” Larson exhaled. “Wishful thinking, huh?”

“It’s all we’ve got right now,” said Flint. “I wonder what theories the Lavorix had about the ascendancy.”

“They had centuries to gather data on the Kilvar. I bet they’d constructed plenty of solid probability models.”

“Which will be stored somewhere on the Ancidium.”

“Like a carrot, dangling in the dark a thousand klicks away.”

Nothing about the situation was funny, but Flint laughed anyway and Larson joined in. The sound faded in moments and they continued in silence. Flint came to another intersection and turned right. A short distance further, he turned left through an open doorway and into a familiar place.

In this room, concentric rings of Lavorix consoles circled a central pillar wrapped in thick black cables. Alliance personnel were seated at many of these stations, though Flint sensed a despondency about them. After three unsuccessful weeks of searching for usable intel, the initial euphoria and eagerness were fading.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” said Larson, as Flint headed for an exit which was currently hidden by the main pillar.

“Soon,” Flint promised. He halted mid-step. “What about the mess room when I’m done speaking to the Fleet Admiral?”

“You’ve got a date,” said Larson.

Aware that Recker didn’t like waiting, Flint hurried from the comms room and into another passage. A squad of soldiers – none of whom he recognized – were coming towards him, and other personnel were visible further along, exiting a room on one side of the passage and entering a second room on the opposite side.

Last Flint had heard, more than eighty thousand alliance personnel were now onboard the Ancidium. Compared to the size of the vessel, it was a drop in the ocean and it wasn’t difficult to find places which were completely deserted. Places where Flint would close his eyes to feel the strange sense of loss which gripped this alien colossus.

Less than five minutes from the comms room, Flint arrived at a closed door in the middle of a corridor. It was silent and the personnel he’d seen earlier were nowhere in evidence. Flint interfaced with the door and it opened. At the end of a ten-metre passage, the next door opened automatically and he stepped into a compact room. This room lacked furnishings, except for a single Lavorix corpse which lay sprawled in one corner. Flint didn’t expect it would make a comfortable seat.

“How was the treatment?” asked Fleet Admiral Recker, looking up from his portable communicator. He was tall and broad and he was standing near the far wall. His suit helmet and a gauss rifle were on the floor near his feet. Recker’s short-cropped hair was grey and his eyes piercing. “And how did you handle the gateway?”

“The gateway was fine, sir – a hundred times better than the other ones I’ve been through. I can’t say the treatment was any better than I expected. I’ve heard stories of people on the operating table who’ve been anaesthetised but when they come round, they can remember everything that happened. That’s how it was.”

Recker folded the communicator shut, but kept it in his hand. “That’s what I’ve heard from some of the others,” he said. “I wish we’d had the time to refine the process before I asked for volunteers.”

“I’m pleased we have people with the courage to step up, sir,” said Flint. The early tests had resulted in numerous fatalities.

“And I’m glad we have people capable enough of designing something like the chamber and I’m equally glad the Ancidium was able to build to those plans in less than a week.” Recker cursed. “In fact, I should be ecstatic.” He laughed bitterly. “Except, I am not.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Flint.

Recker bared his teeth and then opened the communicator again. He stepped closer and offered it to Flint like it was a handful of dung. “This.”

Taking the device, Flint scanned the text on the screen. “The normality aberration,” he said. “Is this right?”

“The chance of an aberration jumped from twenty percent to one hundred and thirty percent while you were recovering from your time in the chamber,” said Recker. “I had it re-run – several times – and the output is consistent.”

“What do the analysts say about it, sir?” asked Flint. He knew the answer, but had to hear it for himself.

“What do you think?” growled Recker. “Our time is up – the Kilvar have either ascended or they’re about to perform whatever damned ceremony is required for it to happen.”

“How come the aberration is greater than a hundred percent?” Flint persisted.

“Variation and inaccuracies in our data. Nothing more.”

“Ever since we opened dialogue with the Lavorix, they talked like the ascendancy was inevitable,” said Flint. He handed back the communicator. “I never quite believed it, sir.” A surge of anger or a hidden strength deep inside made Flint straighten. “And I’m not ready to believe it now. The normality aberration is wrong – else we’d be dead already.”

“Would we?” asked Recker. “Surely even a god can’t expunge life from the entire universe so quickly.”

Looking at the other man, Flint asked himself if Recker had lost all hope. This talk was of failure, rather than pulling victory from the jaws of defeat. Having come so far, Flint couldn’t bear the thought that all his efforts – and those of everyone else – had been for naught.

He wasn’t ready to give in. Not now and not ever.

Chapter Two

“Was this meeting to discuss a construction order for fifty billion coffins, sir?” asked Flint coldly. “Or perhaps about how we can add the flavour of fresh oranges to our life energy so the Kilvar god enjoys it more?”

Recker looked up sharply. “Damnit, man!” he shouted.

“You are being led by a report, sir!” said Flint, his own voice rising to match. “Obliterator cores and analysts didn’t beat the Lavorix first time round! Reports and percentages didn’t pilot the Ixidar through the Ancidium’s cargo bay, blowing the living shit out of dozens of enemy warships!” Flint stared directly at Recker and lowered his voice. “And the Ancidium was not captured by a beaten alliance.”

Recker sagged and Flint’s own anger ebbed as quickly as it had come.

“Something has to change,” said Recker at last. “I can’t see where that change is coming from.”

“We’ve been here before, sir - where the planning and the forecasts had us out of the fight.”

“And every time, we came back from the brink,” said Recker.

“Yes, sir, we did. We never stopped pushing and we always found a way.”

Recker’s eyes went to the communicator in his hand. “Shit,” he said. It wasn’t immediately clear if he was cursing the device or the universe in general. With a sudden swing of his arm, Recker hurled his communicator into the wall and it clattered unbroken to the floor. He stared at it for a time, like it had become the centrepiece of everything which had held him in thrall. “Thank you, Captain Flint.”

“We can fix this, sir. I know we can. We have the Ancidium and there’s nothing that doesn’t fear it.”

“Its creator cannot fear this vessel,” said Recker.

“I believe you’re wrong, sir,” said Flint. “I believe the Ancidium has transcended its origins. The Lavorix were given this tool and they took it beyond anything that was ever imagined.”

“Then that knowledge is lost with them. Or locked away so deeply in this warship’s databanks that it’s effectively beyond our reach. Our best personnel have spent nearly three weeks combing through the Ancidium’s storage arrays for something useful and we have so much data it’s impossible to make sense of it all.” Recker ran a gloved hand across his head. “In truth, we don’t even know exactly what we’re hoping to find. If the Lavorix had learned of a weakness or…anything…then they’d have exploited it long before now.”

“The Lavorix didn’t attack Berongar, sir.”

“No,” said Recker. He rubbed his chin. “I’ve already had my teams draw up a list of targets which the Lavorix were aware of yet had left alone. Unfortunately, I can’t rely on the accuracy of the data – our former friends employed a priority system that doesn’t appear to be in any way logical. It may be that half of the targets on the list are no more than resource worlds or places where the Lavorix believe life might exist.”

“How many of these potential targets are on that list, sir?”

“Almost half a million, with more being added constantly. The Ancidium’s star charts contain an incredible number of entries.”

“There must be a way to narrow things down,” said Flint.

“I have other teams assigned to just that task.”

“What’s the outlook?”

“They’ll be successful – the alliance is always successful given time.” Recker pursed his lips, like he was holding in a curse. “But as you know, time is always the most precious of resources.”

Suddenly, Flint noticed how exhausted Recker was. The man was likely working twenty-hour days or longer, and his distaste for boosters was widely known. His tank was probably long empty and that went a long way to explaining his low spirits.

“I was speaking to Commander Larson, sir,” said Flint. “We thought that maybe the Kilvar have withdrawn from most of their battle fronts, except those where they’re on the verge of making enough kills.”

“I’d considered the same thing myself,” said Recker. He clenched his jaw as he often did when he was thinking. “Like you said, we have to keep pushing. If we push hard enough, something will give.” He stooped and picked up the scuffed communicator. “The reports and the predictions—” Recker breathed in. “I’ve let myself become too reactive – you told me that before, when we were fighting for the Ancidium. I convinced myself that our success was proof enough that I’d changed.”

“We have a key to potentially everything, sir.”

“The sphere entity,” said Recker.

“Yes, sir. We can’t ignore it any longer.”

The entity was currently in zero-time and also isolated from the rest of the Ancidium’s onboard systems. Although the alliance was in control of the warship, the weapons systems routed through the sphere and they could not be hacked with the entity in stasis.

Furthermore, the risks of removing the zero-time field while the Ancidium was parked near Terrani were much too great, on the basis that the entity might unleash a few planet-busting weapons on the Daklan home world. However, the recent gateway transit had likely opened up new options.

“I ordered the Ancidium to the Trino system,” said Recker. “The risk analysis was that we’d remained at Terrani for too long.”

“What’s at Trino, sir?” asked Flint, after racking his brain and being unable to place the name.

“A research facility, nothing more.”

Flint detected what might have been a hint of evasiveness in the brevity of the response, but he didn’t push for details. If there was anything in the Trino system pertinent to this conversation, he was sure Recker would let him know.

“So, the entity,” said Flint. “Our stalemate doesn’t benefit the alliance.”

“We can’t trust it,” said Recker.

“The entity has its own motives, sir. If they are aligned with ours, we can trust it for as long as that remains the case. Besides, if it proves treacherous, we can isolate it again.”

“The next time might not be so easy - we don’t know what the entity is capable of.” Recker blew through his teeth. “What if it receives a command from its maker to kill us all?”

“Then everything is lost, sir.”

Recker glanced at the communicator again and, for a moment, it was touch-and-go as to whether or not he was going to make a second attempt to smash it into pieces. He gripped the device tightly but didn’t throw it. “Do what must be done, Captain Flint. I give you the authority. I’ll order RL Moseley to program an oblex core and send it to the corridor outside the internal shuttle car.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll go to the sphere room at once.” Flint paused. “What will you do, sir?”

“I’ll continue the preparations,” said Recker. The uncertainty from earlier was gone, replaced by the hardness and simmering anger which had seen the deaths of countless of his enemies. He smiled. “Maybe it’s time to do something reckless – like take RL Moseley off the leash.”

“He was on a leash, sir?”

“He was – he just didn’t know it.”

“Good luck to us all, sir.”

“I have some glimmerings of other ideas as well,” said Recker. He withdrew an injector from his leg pocket and stabbed himself in the thigh. “Frenziol. I always was too stubborn to take it. Or maybe stupid is the right word.”

The meeting was over. Flint spun on his heel and left the room. In the corridor outside, he spoke to Commander Larson on the comms and let her know he’d be late.

“What are you planning to say to the entity?” asked Larson.

“I’ll find out when I get there and open my mouth. We need the Ancidium’s weapons and, whatever’s in that sphere, we need it on our side.”

“Any agreement we make—”

“I know,” said Flint. “We’ll just have to keep looking over our shoulders.”

“Make it work.”

“I will.”

Flint exited the channel and continued his journey to the interior shuttle car which would take him to the sphere room. He passed a few groups of soldiers and some other personnel. While the Kilvar had landed a few thousand of their troops on the Ancidium three weeks ago, they were contained far from here and would remain so until Admiral Recker decided it was time to send in the troops, or the alliance gained control over the Ancidium’s weaponry and turned on the interior defences.

He arrived at the shuttle doors. There was no sign of the oblex core. His wait wasn’t long and after a couple of minutes, the device came speeding along the corridor and then halted a short distance away. Flint interfaced with the core – Oblex#16 - and confirmed that the stasis field generation commands had been properly installed.

A brief delay followed as he waited for the shuttle car and when it arrived, he entered at once. Flint provided his destination and the doors closed. He knew the journey would be short in duration, but it gave him a few moments to reflect. The fate of the alliance hung in the balance – and was probably contingent upon his coming encounter with the sphere entity – yet here he was, alone.

Flint knew he could have asked for advice before setting off – maybe even brought a group of senior officers along with him - but sometimes it was best to go with the moment. Besides, he had a strong suspicion the entity would refuse to speak if he was accompanied.

The shuttle doors opened and Flint gazed out into the now familiar space. It was cold, near dark and the Lavorix god – or whatever the hell it was – hung in the centre of the space, trapped in the zero-time field being created by the Oblex#2 core hovering before it.

Three weeks had passed since Flint’s last visit, but he remembered the routine. He stepped out of the shuttle car and issued a command to Oblex#16. The device sped into the room. Just outside the bounds of the existing stasis field, it created a much larger stasis negation pulse which would cancel the zero-time for exactly ten seconds.

You have returned.

“Yes.”

How long has passed since last we spoke?

“Three weeks.”

And what has transpired with your alliance?

“Not much. The Kilvar have not attacked since the engagement at Ater.”

The enemy have withdrawn. Their ascendancy has been delayed.

Flint commanded Oblex#16 to create a new negation pulse. “Delayed?” he asked, unsure if he was ready to feel hope at this unproven news. “For how long?”

That is not clear.

“Where did you learn this?”

When you removed the stasis, I received communication. The requirements of ascendancy cannot currently be met.

“What was the travel time on that communication?” asked Flint.

On the previous occasion he’d spoken to the sphere entity, it had informed him that it was waiting for guidance from elsewhere. It had also said that it would consider whether to offer assistance.

I do not know.

Flint ordered the creation of a new stasis negation pulse. “So the information you received could be out of date?”

Did you come to argue with me, Captain William Flint?

“No – I am looking for certainty.”

Certainty. You are ever at the mercy of that which you will never attain.

Flint thought he sensed what might be the alien equivalent of amusement from the entity. “I am here to reach an agreement.”

At the end of our last conversation you wanted to speak with your superiors.

“And now I have. What else did you learn in your communication?”

The entity didn’t respond and Flint cursed when he realised it was back in zero-time. He sent a command to Oblex#16 and it created another pulse.

As I told you, the requirements of the ascendancy cannot currently be met.

“Which is a good thing,” said Flint. For some reason he was getting the feeling that this delay wasn’t necessarily going to be an overwhelmingly positive development.

A delay is not the same as an ending.

“Please explain.” Flint was accustomed to the entity and the difficulty in extracting straightforward answers from it, but he felt the tugging of impatience. “Wait, hold that for a moment.” He requested a new negation pulse. “What will you do if I take you out of stasis?”

I will talk.

It wasn’t exactly the most reassuring of answers, but Flint wanted an uninterrupted conversation. He ordered Oblex#16 to create a two-minute negation pulse.

“The stasis is negated for longer this time,” he said. “Now, please tell me what has happened to prevent the Kilvar ascendancy.”

The Shadows of Kilvus have been divided. They will not remain so forever.

Flint had no idea what the Shadows of Kilvus were, but as soon as he heard the words, he experienced a feeling tantamount to outright fear, as if simply invoking the name had the power to create a physical reaction.

He took a deep breath. “Tell me.”

Chapter Three

The Shadows of Kilvus are the conduits. The life energy harvested by the Kilvar is channelled through them.

“Them?” asked Flint. “Are they…creatures?”

They are lords of the Kilvar. Andralivus, Loximor, Tiovan, Galtivon, Seviron. When they combine, the ascendancy will happen.

“So what’s stopping them?”

As I told you – the Shadows of Kilvus have been divided.

“How?” Flint had another thought. “And does this mean the Kilvar have enough life energy to ascend?”

The answer to your last question is yes. The how of it is not known.

“Who doesn’t know?”

Those to whom I speak.

“And who are they to whom you speak?” Flint knew he was hearing something of monumental importance, yet his exasperation was growing by the second. He forced himself calm.

Others. You shall not know.

“So what might have caused the Shadows of Kilvus to become divided?”

Galtivon has been captured.

“Which species accomplished this?”

Galtivon is known to command the nine Seekings occupied with the Balon.

Flint had dozens of questions and he struggled to decide on the next one. “You said this will only delay the ascendancy?”

Yes.

“For how long?”

That is not known.

“How do you know Galtivon is not destroyed?”

The Kilvar gathering has begun. Hence their withdrawal from many battle fronts.

“How does that indicate Galtivon is not destroyed?”

Its destruction would cause the dissipation of the life energy it stores.

“You referred to the Shadows of Kilvus as conduits – are they also containers, then?”

Yes. The life energy is channelled into them. It will bring about their ascendancy.

“So if there are five Shadows of Kilvus, the destruction of one would cost the Kilvar twenty percent of the life energy they’ve stolen. And presumably it would take them another two hundred years of fighting to regain it.”

Perhaps longer. The Kilvar would be forced to travel greater distances to find new species.

“A two-century delay would be welcome,” said Flint. “But it’ll lead to more death and misery.”

That is the story of the universe, from long before the Kilvar.

Flint couldn’t let himself think the fighting would be eternal. At some point, there had to be an end. If humanity and the Daklan could forge an alliance that was stronger now than it had ever been, then there was hope for every other species. He took a breath.

“Where does this gathering of the Kilvar take place?”

That is not known.

“There are a lot of not knowns in this conversation. I thought the Lavorix had been fighting the Kilvar for a thousand years.”

There is no communication with the Kilvar. The Kilvar do not permit close observation. Much is supposition based on information gained from war.

“So most – maybe all - of what you’ve told me could be inaccurate?”

Yes. You are also wondering if my intentions are to mislead.

“Are they?”

The Kilvar must be defeated.

It was another evasive response, but Flint noticed a shift – a huge shift. “In the past, you’ve told me the Kilvar cannot be stopped.”

Yes.

“And now?”

Previous certainties have been re-evaluated. The capture of Galtivon was not foreseen.

“Did the Lavorix ever encounter the Shadows of Kilvus?” asked Flint out of curiosity and to see if the question would lead somewhere.

Yes.

“What happened?”

The risks to the Ancidium were considered too great.

“The Lavorix withdrew?”

Yes.

Flint was fascinated and wished he could stay here without the pressures of time, asking questions until he’d learned everything about these past events.

“I think I can guess the answer to this one – if Galtivon has been captured, what action will the Kilvar take?”

They will divert many Seekings from their journey to the gathering.

“They’ll divert to the Balon-occupied worlds?”

Yes.

“You told me before that the Balon were holding out against the Kilvar.”

Against nine of the Seekings. The Kilvar will send others. At their peak, they once possessed a total of forty-five such Seekings.

“How many are left?”

An estimated twenty-seven.

“Each as numerous as the one destroyed by the Lavorix and alliance at Landnir?”

Some greater, some lesser.

Flint needed a moment to digest everything he was hearing. He sent the next command to Oblex#16 and the core dutifully extended the stasis negation by another two minutes.

“Do the Balon have the means to destroy Galtivon?”

Had they the means, Galtivon’s life energy would already be dissipated.

“Is the Ancidium equipped with a weapon which could destroy the Shadows of Kilvus?”

That is not known. The Lavorix designed and constructed weapons. They have not been tested.

“Did the Lavorix not attempt another confrontation with the Shadows of Kilvus?”

Yes. By that time, the Kilvar lords were not so eager to fight.

“Because they’d stored up too much life energy to risk losing it?”

That is the logical assumption.

Flint’s mind was full of thoughts and ideas, and he chewed his lip as he tried to separate the good from the bad. “What would happen if all five Shadows of Kilvus were destroyed?”

The Kilvar would continue their fight from the beginning. They have nothing else.

“They’d be weakened.”

Of course.

“And without leaders.”

New lords would rise.

“Something like the Raklivian would take on the mantle?”

Yes.

“Regardless, we have to defeat the Shadows of Kilvus,” said Flint. “The more we knock over, the harder it’ll be for the Kilvar to recover.”

How do you propose to accomplish this feat, Captain William Flint?

Flint didn’t know. “Sometimes you have start with a goal.”

Fine words.

“Do you – or whoever you’re receiving guidance from – know where to find either Galtivon or the other Shadows of Kilvus?” asked Flint, ignoring the mockery.

For some time, the sphere entity was silent and Flint checked the stasis negation field to see if it had expired early. It hadn’t, but he extended it anyway.

The entity is communicating with its creator. Or the gods. Or whatever the hell is out there.

The whereabouts of these beings is not known. However, the capture of Galtivon limits the possibilities.

“To the Balon worlds?”

To Balon territory. Other Shadows of Kilvus will come. You may find them.

“Can the Balon hold out?”

No.

Flint inhaled steadily and asked the question he’d been building up to. “Will you help the alliance?”

The decision is not yet made.

It was one more infuriating answer amongst seemingly dozens of others, and Flint struggled with his temper.

“Why has the decision not been made? If the enemy is vulnerable – even if only a little – we cannot delay.”

Another pause.

Evaluation of your alliance is incomplete.

“What does that mean?” asked Flint. He had a damned good idea, but wanted to hear it said.

Evaluation of your alliance is incomplete.

Flint gritted his teeth. “When will the evaluation be complete?”

That is not known. You may wish for the process to be a long one, Captain William Flint.

The conversation had taken an unexpected turn and Flint struggled to think of how to salvage something from it. Here was the sphere entity effectively telling him that the alliance may well be judged a threat by these unknown forces in the universe. What action they’d take against humanity and the Daklan didn’t bear thinking about.

Out of his depth and sinking fast, Flint tried something different.

“What if we destroyed the Ancidium?”

Another pause, this one longer than those which came before it.

Your alliance lacks the means to destroy this vessel.

“You know that isn’t true,” said Flint. “You have seen the power of exium.”

What would you gain from the destruction of the Ancidium?

“It would gain nothing for the alliance, but nor would we - ultimately - lose anything. Whatever beings you seek guidance from, they are no friends of ours. We cannot wait for a decision that might never come. Extinction at the hands of one foe is no more terrible than extinction at the hands of another. At least the destruction of the Ancidium would hurt one of our enemies.”

I do not wish to be destroyed.

Flint’s heart pounded in his chest. He couldn’t remember a time when the sphere entity had given any indication it was interested in self-preservation.

“What does your creator say?”

My creator does not wish me to be destroyed.

“Would your creator permit it to happen?”

Yes. If it was necessary.

“If you do not wish to be destroyed, what exactly do you want?”

I wish to see the Kilvar defeated. That is the only purpose I have known.

“You once hinted that your creator had other plans for you.”

I do not know them. Perhaps those plans are not yet formed.

Having been so close to failure, Flint sensed the moment was coming and he had to play this just right. “What are you?” he asked.

I am part of the Ancidium. Perhaps I am all of the Ancidium. I am undecided which.

“Do you have a name?” Flint wondered why he’d never thought to ask before.

My creator labelled me Alsar-9.

“Will you help us defeat the Kilvar, Alsar-9?”

If I do this, the consequences may be grave for your alliance, Captain William Flint.

“No graver than they’ll be if you don’t help us.”

In which case, I will help you.

“Thank you.”

There may also be repercussions for this vessel.

“What kind of repercussions?” asked Flint sharply.

I do not know.

“Guess.”

The Ancidium is not a prize to be given up easily.

“That isn’t an answer.” Flint waited for the sphere to say something more. It remained silent. He sighed. “Assuming everything works out and we defeat the Kilvar, what happens then? What will you do?”

That is yet to be decided.

It was the response Flint had expected. “That’ll have to be enough,” he said. “I’ll cancel the stasis in this room. Will you continue this with my superior officer?”

Fleet Admiral Carl Recker. I will speak with him.

Flint knew he’d taken the negotiations as far as he was able, and the enormity of everything made him feel suddenly weak. He interfaced with Oblex#2 and cancelled its zero-time field.

“The stasis is ended.”

The sphere didn’t respond, though Flint was not surprised. He returned to the shuttle and interfaced with the lift panel. The door closed, blocking his sight of the immense sphere.

As the shuttle car got moving, Flint tipped back his head and cast his mind to the recent fight for control of the Ancidium. He remembered how his security access should have expired when the engagement was on the very cusp. And yet that access had not expired and, after the fight, the sphere entity hadn’t responded when he asked it why.

He smiled thinly and cursed himself a fool that he hadn’t read the signs until it was almost too late.

Chapter Four

The room was cold and, though illumination exuded from the alloy ceiling by some trickery of advanced technology, it wasn’t nearly enough to dispel the oppressive gloom. In fact, it made Flint think of the Raklivian’s death aura, even if he didn’t feel any of the sickliness.

“I have a mission for you, Captain Flint,” said Recker. His feet were slightly apart and his arms were folded across his chest, as though he were setting himself firm against whatever would come from this meeting.

“I guessed that’s why you called me here, sir,” said Flint.

He met Recker’s gaze without flinching. There wasn’t anything else to focus on here – the room was empty like many others within the Ancidium, as if the vessel had been constructed without a clear idea of what all these spaces would be used for.

Or maybe it had been built with such a precisely mapped purpose that the designers knew exactly when in the future these rooms would be required. It was an uncomfortable thought and one which Flint didn’t pursue.

“You are aware that Alsar-9 has provided location details for the Balon,” said Recker.

“Yes, sir. They occupy surprisingly few planets, though the Ancidium’s data may be incomplete.”

“And you’re also aware that we don’t know where the Balon are holding Galtivon captive,” said Recker. “What you probably don’t know is why we’ve been sitting on our asses for these last two weeks since you convinced Alsar-9 to help us.”

As it happened, Flint had a damned good idea, though he didn’t reveal it immediately. “We’ve passed through several gateways, each time meeting up with one of our heavy lifters. Without resources, the construction work in the Ancidium’s bays will soon dry up,” he said.

“Yes, but we’re never going to fill those bays,” said Recker. “At least not anytime soon.”

“We also need time for construction to finish on the incomplete Laws of Ancidium,” said Flint. “Those should give us the firepower to challenge the Kilvar.”

“In a limited fashion,” Recker agreed. “If those bastards have twenty-seven full-strength Seekings, we could be looking at a force of more than five thousand warships. Beating so many will require far more hardware than we have available.”

“I hear RL Moseley and his teams are continuing their efforts to properly harness the capabilities of exium, sir,” said Flint. “Exium, in combination with everything else we have available, may make the difference.”

“That’s what we’re hoping – we’ve had the Ancidium build several ingar-ternium reactors in Bay 5 and they’ve been creating an enormous quantity of exium. So far, that exium has proven—” Recker’s expression twisted. “Stable.”

“Stable,” Flint repeated. He gave a rueful smile. “When it comes to exium, the word never seems to mean what I always understood it to mean.”

“Anyway,” Recker continued quickly. Some things it was best not to dwell upon. “The exium is contained within a null, which will prevent the Kilvar detecting it.”

“So we’ve delayed for two weeks in order that construction work might finish on the Lavorix’s part-built warships and at the same time, we’re creating exium,” said Flint. He pretended nonchalance. “I hear there’s also some important construction work happening in Bay 4, sir.”

Recker laughed - the sound was open and genuine. “You’ve been speaking to Alsar-9?”

“I didn’t need to, sir. The arrival of the Hades and the Sibaron from Terrani was an open secret.”

“Hades – a home for the dead,” said Recker, his eyes faraway. “Ancient Daklan history holds many similar myths to that of humanity. Sibaron is the place where the early Daklan believed the souls of their forebears remained, watching for the moment when an unavoidable cataclysm known as the Acopteis would threaten all life. Then, those spirits would return to protect the living from evil.”

“I know about Hades, sir,” said Flint. “Vaguely.”

Recker hauled his attention back to the present. “Anyway, the Hades and Sibaron are our new annihilators,” he said. “They were six weeks from completion on Hakarul and the Ancidium has finished the work in less than two.”

“Plus modifications.”

“What do you know about the modifications?” asked Recker.

“I didn’t even know for certain they existed until you confirmed it just this moment, sir.”

Recker laughed again. “I was never good at keeping secrets.” His expression turned serious. “Finalising work on the Sibaron is incomplete because of…technical issues…but the Hades is ready to go.”

Having been in many similar situations, Flint knew where this was leading. “I’m heading into Balon space to hunt for Galtivon,” he said flatly.

“You’ll be leaving soon.”

“Why the Hades and not the Axindar, sir?” asked Flint. His curiosity was more than a little piqued. “There’s nothing can stand against the Axindar.”

“The Vilekron wasn’t the only warship in the Kilvar fleet which could phase shift,” said Recker. “And the Axindar’s disintegration cannons aren’t effective against phase shifted vessels.”

“Point taken, sir,” said Flint.

“Plus, Galtivon is expected to be similarly untroubled by the Axindar’s weapons.”

Flint narrowed his eyes. “How do we know?”

“The Balon have similar technology to the Axindar’s cannons, yet Galtivon is not destroyed. That is evidence enough.”

“How is the Hades different?”

Recker’s expression didn’t change. “Exium.”

“I take it the Hades is fitted with some new fire and hope weapons, sir?”

A flicker of anger crossed Recker’s face and then he sighed. “It’s the same as always, Captain Flint. The Hades is filled with exium technology – some of which has been in the pipeline since the beginning of this war and which is only now coming onstream. This time, nothing was held back.”

“I’m as familiar with the realities of our situation as anyone, sir,” said Flint, already regretting his pessimistic evaluation of the Hades. “It’s just that—”

Recker lifted a hand. “I know. You’re always the one who does the testing.”

“I think I’d be disappointed if you handed the job to anyone else.” Now it was Flint’s turn to laugh.

“You’ve got some exploring to do, Captain Flint,” said Recker. “And some fighting too, if we’re lucky.”

“I take it from our discussion that the Hades will be alone on this mission, sir?”

“That’s the decision Admiral Ivinstol and I have made.”

“I understand what you said about the effectiveness of the Axindar’s disintegration cannons, sir. But that ship – or the Ixidar - would make perfect backup. Or more likely, the Hades would be the backup for ninety-five percent of the mission, until we locate Galtivon.”

“We have plans for those warships,” said Recker. “I’m not willing to deploy them just yet.”

“With all due respect, sir, is this really time to play the long game?”

“There is no long game,” said Recker. “Not anymore.”

“Those warships will be ready soon?”

“That’s the idea.” Recker’s gaze was steady. “And the Hades is ready now.”

“Yes, sir,” said Flint. He took a deep breath. “Is there anything I need to discuss with you concerning the mission goals?”

“Destroy Galtivon, whatever it takes,” said Recker simply. “If that means starting a war with the Balon, don’t hesitate. We’re too far down the road to worry about—” he paused, as if he found his coming words distasteful, “trying to be the good guys.”

“Yes, sir,” said Flint. “I assume I’ll have access to the navigational data from the Ancidium?”

“It’s all loaded into the Hades’ data arrays,” said Recker.

“Will the Ancidium be taking us to a location near the target area, sir? Or is it feasible for us to travel there on a ternium drive?”

“The Hades is equipped with its own gateway hardware.”

“Yes, sir, that’s good to hear.” Flint wasn’t quite ready to proceed. “I lost one of my propulsion officers. Lieutenant Bolan.”

“I hadn’t forgotten,” said Recker. “I have chosen a replacement and he is ready for this mission.”

“Has he been in the chamber, sir?”

“Not long after you.”

Flint nodded. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll head to Bay 4.”

“There’s nothing else,” said Recker. “Depart immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

Flint turned and was brought up short by a message which appeared on his HUD.

Alsar-9> I have detected an intrusion on one of the Ancidium’s onboard systems.

“Shit,” said Flint. He used his suit computer’s speech-to-text facility and sent a response.

Flint> What kind of intrusion and where?

Alsar-9> The intrusion affects a minor subsystem.

Flint> Isolate the subsystem.

Alsar-9> That is already done.

Flint> What is the source of the intrusion?

Alsar-9> I cannot confirm.

Flint> Cannot or will not?

Alsar-9> I cannot confirm. A second intrusion has appeared.

Flint> Isolate it.

Alsar-9> That is already done.

Flint> Can you block further intrusions?

Alsar-9> No.

Flint> Can you purge the intrusions rather than isolating the affected systems?

Alsar-9> No.

Flint> What can we do?

Alsar-9> I do not know.

Flint> Keep isolating the intrusions. I’ll speak to my superiors.

His eyes refocused on the room, and Recker was watching him with concern.

“What is it, Captain Flint?”

“Alsar-9 reports intrusions on the Ancidium’s subsystems.”

“The creator—” Recker didn’t need it spelling out and he grimaced. “The gods want their warship back.”

“The sphere entity wouldn’t confirm, sir, but I’m sure you’re right.”

Recker’s fists clenched and unclenched. “We don’t need this crap.”

“We captured this warship before, sir, and now it belongs to us,” said Flint defiantly. “Maybe we should find out what happens when we pit our oblex cores against these attempts to take back the Ancidium.”

“Good idea,” said Recker. “I’ll speak to RL Moseley and see what he comes up with.” He gestured towards the door. “In the meantime, proceed with your mission, Captain Flint.”

“Yes, sir.”

This time when Flint headed for the door, nothing stopped him. He exited the room and checked the Ancidium’s internal map, to determine the best way to Bay 4. With that done, he set off at a fast walking pace. On the way, Flint accessed the personnel files to see who’d been assigned to the mission. Those personnel had already received orders to board the Hades.

Following a period of relative calm, events were moving again. As usual, nothing was straightforward – Flint was expected to locate a Kilvar super-being and kill it while it was held captive by another warlike species. He was sure the enemy Seekings would be everywhere he didn’t want them to be, and that meant the fighting would be intense.

Meanwhile, a separate battle for the Ancidium was brewing and Flint suspected that would soon turn far nastier than a few intrusions on the vessel’s onboard systems.

There was more. As he replayed the recent discussion with Recker in his mind, Flint remembered the fleeting unease which had crossed the other man’s face when he’d revealed the existence of the new annihilators.

The Hades was going to be something special, Flint was sure. Given everything that was on the horizon, it would need to be a hammer that could crush fleets and worlds alike.

This time, nothing was held back.

Recker’s words were both a promise and a threat and Flint knew without a shadow of doubt that when this was over, he would not be the same man he was now.

For better or for worse.

Chapter Five

Fifteen minutes on foot, plus two separate rides on the Ancidium’s network of internal shuttle cars, brought Flint to the rendezvous point, that being a fifty-metre room not far from the entrance to Bay 4. Much of the travel time was spent on the comms to his bridge officers, letting them know the scant information he had about the coming mission.

When he entered the room, Flint discovered that Captain Vance and a few dozen of his soldiers had got there first. They stood in the gloom to the left-hand side of the entrance, checking their weapons and generally giving the appearance of people who were on edge and trying to hide it.

Flint raised a hand in greeting and Vance headed over, with several familiar faces trailing after him in what they likely hoped was a surreptitious manner.

“Good to see you again, Captain Vance,” said Flint.

“And you, sir.” Vance had been tested by the Raklivian, but there was no sign of it now. The man looked meaner than ever – as if he’d come out of the encounter stronger than before. “Have you got anything to share with us?”

“I’m sure you know the details as well as I do,” said Flint.

“I’ve heard some things,” Vance admitted. “It doesn’t sound as if there’ll be much use for gauss rifles and repeaters.”

Flint kept his face straight. The only place Vance could have heard anything was directly from Recker and since the two of them went back a long way, they must have been talking.

“The hardest thing is learning how to put your feet up.” Flint shrugged as if the entire concept was alien. “So I’ve been told.”

“My wife says the same thing, sir.” Vance gave a smile that must have taken a great effort. “I can’t remember the last time I saw her.”

“This war is coming to a head,” said Flint. “The Kilvar have suffered a setback and we’re about to deliver them another.”

“That’s good to hear,” said Vance. He half-turned to wave his soldiers away, since they were encroaching in their eagerness to pick up some intel. “A new type of warship, I’m told.”

“The Hades,” said Flint. “I haven’t read the spec sheets yet, but I’d guess it’s packing enough exium to put an entire solar system – or a Kilvar badass - into zero-time.”

Vance nodded. “Let me know if you need anything, sir.”

“Thank you, Captain, I will.”

During the short conversation, several members of Flint’s crew arrived, and others from Vance’s company entered the room every few seconds. The soldiers were moving at the double, which was wise on their part, since Lieutenants Tagra and Gantry were not renowned for their patience.

A thickset man pushed his way through the gathering company and stopped directly in front of Flint. This man’s hair was short-cropped and grey, and his lined face was particularly weathered, as if he’d spent the last dozen years working round-the-clock shifts in the winds and rain of Terrani.

“Lieutenant Eastwood, sir,” said the man by way of introduction. His voice was deep and with a hard edge, like he had a sackful of tenixite gravel stuck in his throat.

“I’ve heard plenty about you, Lieutenant,” said Flint.

“All of it shit, I imagine,” said a new voice.

Flint glanced left to where Lieutenant Adam Burner was loitering. “Not quite the summation I was about to offer, Lieutenant.”

“Don’t mind him, sir,” said Eastwood. “I carried him man and boy through the Lavorix wars. Just when I thought I was finally rid of him, Fleet Admiral Recker picked up the phone and gave me the order.”

“You can tell Lieutenant Eastwood is ancient, sir,” said Commander Larson, who had now appeared at Flint’s right-hand side. “Nobody who’s less than a thousand years old knows what a phone is anymore.”

Eastwood laughed and he stepped in to give Larson a hug. She embraced him in return.

“Long time, no see,” she said.

Burner leaned across and gave Eastwood’s hand a vigorous shake.

“It’s good to have you with us, Ken.”

“I’d like to say I’m glad to be back,” said Eastwood, laughing again. He looked at Flint. “I was supposed to have retired ten years ago, but they kept me on to help with design and the odd bit of training. Never thought I’d see action again.”

“Are you ready for it, Lieutenant?” asked Flint. By appearance, Eastwood was in his early sixties, but advancing medical science meant that wasn’t necessarily an impediment for an officer who kept in good shape.

“Abso-damned-lutely, sir,” said Eastwood. “As it happens, the Hades is one of the design projects I was assigned to.”

“So, we can blame you when the hardware explodes?” said Burner.

“As long as you give me all your medals if it doesn’t explode,” Eastwood shot back.

“What medals?” asked Larson. “You have to turn up for duty to earn a medal.”

“I think you should save the catching up for later,” said Flint, trying not to sound like a killjoy. “If there’s as much exium on the Hades as I believe, Lieutenant Eastwood is going to earn his keep making sure it all stays completely stable.”

“Yes, sir,” said Eastwood. “Completely stable.”

A hand signal from Captain Vance gave Flint notice that the last of the soldiers had arrived.

“We’ll move out in a moment,” said Flint.

All members of his crew were now present and he completed the introductions in a few seconds. When that was done, Flint exited the room and into the passage outside. Fifty metres left out of the door, he turned right and, without pause, opened the door to Bay 4 which was a short distance further.

The bay floor outside was in complete darkness and the sensor in Flint’s helmet adjusted enough that he could discern faint shapes, including the outline of a large transport shuttle not far away.

“There’s our ride,” he said.

Flint stepped across the invisible barrier which separated the pressurised interior spaces from the vacuum of the construction yard. As soon as he did so, the temperature plummeted, though not enough to trouble his combat suit.

The shuttle was approximately sixty metres from the bay wall and Flint hurried towards it. Before he was halfway there, one of the transport’s flank doors opened, and the drab red light of the airlock was hardly more cheering than the darkness.

Soon, Flint was in the pilot’s chair and the rest of his crew were in the cockpit. Larson and Burner took the adjacent empty seats, while the others stood against the rear bulkhead. It was no surprise to Flint that Eastwood and Fredericks were talking shop in an animated fashion. The two officers had met before, that much Flint was sure, but he didn’t know if they’d ever served together on the same warship.

“Do we have sensor visibility on the Hades?” asked Flint, while he waited for the rest of Vance’s company to pass through the airlock.

“No, sir,” said Burner, his hands moving effortlessly across the sensor panel. “There’s a great big Lavorix battleship in the way.”

The battleship was on the ground about four hundred metres away, and the lack of construction activity meant it was either complete or the build order was on hold. Whichever it was, the vessel’s slab sides blocked sight of the Hades.

“Everyone’s onboard, sir,” said Larson. “The airlocks are sealed.”

“Let’s get on our way,” said Flint, impatient to begin the mission. He pulled on the transport’s control sticks and the vessel rose from the bay floor with its engines grumbling.

As soon as the shuttle climbed high enough to see across the Lavorix battleship, Burner locked the sensors onto the Hades.

“One hundred and twenty billion tons of super-hard alloy and ternium, mixed in with plenty of exium,” said Eastwood, unable to keep the pride from his voice.

“Eight thousand metres from one end to the other,” said Burner.

“It’s the largest fighting vessel the alliance has ever created,” said Eastwood.

Flint didn’t speak and he kept his eyes on the Hades. The annihilators had always been awe-inspiring craft, a class of warship which punched above its weight in every single conflict since the Daklan had first conceived the design.

The early versions – when humanity and the Daklan had been at war – were hardly more than four thousand metres in length, but the size and mass had increased with each iteration. Still, the basic outline remained the same, and the Hades possessed the same rounded nose, broad midsection and low, angular flanks as every annihilator which came before it. Even the four squat twin-barrel Terrus housings on the topside plating fit with the overall design, rather than seeming like they’d been installed as an afterthought.

One glance was enough for Flint to understand that the Hades was a killer through and through.

“Terrus-VI guns,” said Eastwood, standing behind the pilot’s seat and pointing over Flint’s shoulder at the sensor feeds. “They fire exium-coated, ternium-accelerated slugs.”

“Do I really want to know what happens when such a projectile strikes a solid object?” asked Flint.

“We’ve only done limited testing, using much smaller versions of what the Hades is packing, sir,” said Eastwood. “We had to scale up real fast and that doesn’t leave much time for all the niceties like stressing the hardware to find out how much it can take.”

“Tell me those housings aren’t going to rip clean off the hull on the first discharge,” said Flint.

“I can’t tell you that, sir,” said Eastwood. “We performed a thorough molecular analysis of the materials which went into those guns and had a couple of oblex cores scanning the data for weaknesses in the atomic bonds.”

“The oblex cores are fast enough to do that?” asked Lieutenant Amy Maddox. “I must admit, I thought some of the talk was no more than wishful thinking.”

“Nope,” said Eastwood. “Those cores can burn through pretty much anything you throw at them.”

“And then burn out,” said Fredericks.

“That’s a possibility,” said Eastwood. “We haven’t figured out the limitations of the exium power cores.”

“The story of our lives,” said Lieutenant Rita Becerra.

“We’re getting better at predicting the events which lead to instability and failure in our exium modules,” said Eastwood. “Oddly enough, we’ve been using oblex cores to run the predictive modelling.”

While his crew talked, Flint piloted the shuttle across Bay 4. The Hades was approximately fifty kilometres from the entrance – one warship amongst dozens of others the Ancidium had been building. At the far end of the bay, a single, much larger shape rose high above everything else.

This monstrous vessel was well in excess of twenty thousand metres, and surrounded by a swarm of construction shuttles. Its curved surfaces and sweeping lines put him in mind of the Gorgadar, and Flint wondered if this new vessel was equipped with the same terrible hardware and weaponry, or perhaps a variant that was equally appalling.

Flint gave his attention once more to the Hades. The annihilator was clearly fitted with a greatly increased number of missile clusters and railer countermeasures, but it was the Terrus-VI guns which he was most interested in. The Terrus-Vs were already fearsome weapons, and he wondered how much devastation this new generation of the guns would bring to his opponents.

“I’ll tell you everything you need to know when we get onboard, sir,” said Eastwood.

“Will I be disappointed, Lieutenant?”

“I don’t know, sir. The proof will come when we exit the gateway and run into a bunch of enemy warships.”

It wasn’t quite the assurance Flint had been looking for, but there again, assurances were thin on the ground these days. He turned his gaze to the tactical screen, where Commander Larson had placed a course overlay which would lead him directly to the shuttle bay nearest the Hades’ bridge. Flint followed the line exactly and when he looked at the forward sensor feed, he could see the opening in the annihilator’s flank.

A couple of minutes later, the transport was docked adjacent to the platform in Shuttle Bay 1. Flint exited the cockpit and descended the steps rapidly. In the passenger bay below, he found that Vance had ordered most of his soldiers to remain in their seats, so as not to crowd the airlock.

Flint, his crew, and a single platoon of Vance’s soldiers went through the first airlock cycle. After that came a dash to the bridge. Everything was familiar – every turning was where Flint expected it, and the metallic scent was of every other warship ever constructed by the alliance.

The only slight surprise was that the interior was no larger than that on any other annihilator, as if the designers hadn’t seen the need to house additional personnel. When Flint thought about it – briefly, as he dashed along the cold passages – he reflected that it was a logical decision. If a warship was engineered to fight, then it didn’t need extra space. The Hades was bigger than other annihilators on the outside, but on the inside, it was exactly the same.

Less than fifteen minutes after entering the Ancidium’s Bay 4, Flint arrived at the Hades’ bridge. It was like coming home. He dropped into the command seat and ordered his crew to their stations.

“There’s a lot riding on us getting the best out of this warship,” said Flint. “Let’s find out what it can do.”

Chapter Six

“Almost everything requires an exium switchover. What you’ve been calling running in superstress,” said Lieutenant Eastwood. Early indications were he enjoyed talking tech as much as Lieutenant Fredericks. “So the Hades can run entirely off the power generated by its ternium propulsion. Then, we flick a switch – so to speak – and the exium provides a boost. An enormous boost.”

“Go on,” said Flint. His hands were on the control bars and his eyes were on the sensor feeds. The Hades wouldn’t be going anywhere until he was ready.

“While we’re running on ternium, we will have three available mesh deflectors, the hellburners and lightspeed missiles will launch, the railers will fire and we can deploy shock pulses and incendiaries.” Eastwood coughed, almost apologetically. “Some of the incendiaries contain an exium accelerant. We didn’t test those ones outside of an oblex theoretical model.”

“What effect does the accelerant have on the incendiary spread?” asked Flint in a mixture of fascination and horror.

“We don’t know with any degree of certainty, sir.” Eastwood sounded pained. “When we created the model, the available input data was deemed unlikely to produce a reliable output.”

“You’re going to tell me the test teams ran the simulation anyway.”

“Yes, sir. The exium should magnify the effect of the incendiary, but in what ways and to what extent, we have no idea.”

“Fine,” said Flint, not quite sounding like he meant it. “I notice you didn’t mention the Terrus-VI cannons in your list of weapons available while we’re on ternium power.”

“The Terrus guns fire EX-T slugs like I told you, sir, but the coils in the turret housings – the part which ejects the projectile – they require an additional boost which the ternium propulsion is unable to provide.”

“Dare I ask what kind of velocity those projectiles will achieve?” asked Flint. The Terrus-V slugs travelled just below lightspeed. “Do we even know?”

“The EX-T projectiles travel faster than a current-generation lightspeed missile, sir.”

“We’ve figured out how to make a sphere of metal transition to lightspeed?” asked Flint in disbelief.

“Not exactly, sir. What happens is the slug creates a localised disequilibrium field, which allows it to travel at a velocity which is many multiples of lightspeed, yet without performing a transition.”

“Like an area of speeded-up time?” said Lieutenant Sophie Garrett.

“Yes,” said Eastwood flatly, his tone suggesting the exact opposite of the word he’d spoken. “A bit like an area of speeded-up time.”

“Is the method in any way similar the one used by the Kilvar to bypass the Ancidium’s hull?” asked Flint. “And to penetrate the stasis field at Evia?”

“I don’t know,” said Eastwood. “We have little data on the Kilvar hardware, so anything I say would be speculation.”

“It’s not too important,” said Flint. His eyes went to the centre screen on his console. “We have an energy shield, which I assume will only activate when we’re in superstress?”

“Yes, sir. I recall you were on the Nightfall and that vessel had an early version of the hardware. The Hades has a souped-up energy shield that should absorb a whole lot more incoming fire.”

“As much as the Galactar’s shield?” asked Larson.

“Not a chance,” said Eastwood. “We have a lot of exium onboard, but it can’t beat the output of a trillion tons of massively overstressed ternium. And remember – the Lavorix have been making energy shield hardware for a lot longer than we have. They were better at it than we are, and I’m sure that’ll remain true until we have a proper chance to interrogate the Ancidium’s technical files.”

“We can also phase shift like we could on the Nightfall,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir,” said Eastwood. “There’s a five-minute cooldown between both activation and deactivation.”

“The same limitation as we had before,” said Flint.

“We only have so many personnel for each research project,” said Eastwood. “Some of our projects are coming along faster than others. Anyway, while the Hades is phase shifted, vessels in a different phase can’t target the warship and shouldn’t even be able to detect it.”

“Except the Kilvar managed it last time,” said Flint. “They kept hitting mode 3 and that gave them a tiny moment during which they could detect a phase-shifted warship. When there’re enough enemy vessels, it’s tough to stay ahead.”

“I’ve been told the Kilvar are clever,” said Eastwood. “How long did it take them to figure that one out?”

“Almost immediately.”

“Well, shit.”

“We handled it last time. If necessary, we’ll handle it again,” said Flint. “What about the weapons? The Nightfall’s wouldn’t fire during phase shift.”

“And that’s still the case,” said Eastwood. “Except, maybe for the Terrus-VI guns. One of the simulations predicted a successful discharge from phase shift.”

“What about the other simulations?” asked Flint.

“A variety of outcomes,” said Eastwood. “The worst being destruction of the turret.”

“You want us to believe,” Burner said, slowly, as if it he were considering a suggestion that he lower his testicles into a mincing machine. “That the worst possible outcome from a failure in this experimental hardware, is the destruction of a turret?”

“Yes, that’s absolutely the worst outcome,” said Eastwood. He laughed the knowing laugh of a man who fought a constant battle with cynicism. “According to the simulation.”

Flint tried to maintain a positive outlook. “We’ve been here before, folks, and most of us remember what it was like on the Firestorm. The Hades is bigger, better, faster, and a hundred times more reliable. It’s going to kick some ass.”

“That’s exactly what it was designed to do, sir,” said Eastwood.

“So, we’ve gone over the weapons and defences,” said Flint. “Now, let’s move onto the—”

“There’s one more weapon, sir,” said Eastwood. “You’ll have to enter your command codes into the weapons panel to find it.”

Flint entered his codes. “Decay pulse,” he said. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“The Gorgadar carried the first version of the decay pulse,” said Larson. “The weapon creates a disintegration wave. The radius of the Gorgadar’s pulse was a quarter of a million klicks and it was effective against energy shields as well.”

“This thing will disintegrate anything we target?” said Flint.

“Not exactly, sir,” said Eastwood. “The origin point will be the Hades and the pulse will emanate outwards. We don’t know how far it’ll extend.”

“Where did we obtain the tech?” said Flint. The answer came even as he asked the question. “The Ancidium installed it.”

“Yes, sir,” said Eastwood. “That’s why we have no idea how effective it’ll be. On the Gorgadar, the decay pulse tapped into the warship’s life batteries. Since we aren’t carrying any batteries, we’ll have to find out through testing how effective an exium module is at providing the necessary power.”

“That’s all the weapons?” Flint asked, turning in his seat in order to watch the other man’s expression.

“Yes, sir.”

“In that case, let’s move on to the—”

“Just a quick word about the oblex cores,” Eastwood interrupted him. “We have twelve in total, which keep the Hades running, plus two portable units in storage. The effect of the increased processing grunt will be particularly noticeable on the sensor responsiveness and the weapons targeting.”

“I’m glad the bill of materials for this ship didn’t come out of my pay cheque,” said Garrett.

“I appreciate your thorough description of the hardware, Lieutenant Eastwood,” said Flint. “Can I move on?”

“Be my guest, sir.”

“Admiral Recker told me the Ancidium had partial information about the Balon home worlds,” said Flint. “What exactly has been loaded into the Hades’ navigational system?”

“The Gharal system,” said Becerra. “We’ve been recommended to gateway to the fifth planet – a place the Lavorix have named Virix.”

“What’s at Virix?”

“Probably death, sir. The Lavorix have labelled Virix as both an extraction target and a place known to the Kilvar.”

“Was the planet extracted?”

“I ran a query on other inhabited worlds known to the Lavorix, sir,” said Becerra. “Quite a few of those were extracted, and each has a flag to indicate it happened.”

“Which means that Virix was not extracted,” said Flint. “For whatever reason.”

“The sphere entity told you the Balon were tough,” said Larson. “Maybe they’re tough enough that killing them would have taken up so many resources that it wasn’t worth the effort.”

“I’m sure we’ll run into Balon somewhere in the Gharal system,” said Flint. “One way or another.”

“Are we expecting them to just hand over the location details of Galtivon?” said Garrett. “That’s their grand prize.”

“Prize cow, more like,” said Burner. “And one they can’t kill.”

“I’d like to say the Balon will listen to reason,” said Flint. “But we all saw what happened when we tried speaking reasonably to the Aterne.”

“They fired missiles at us,” said Lieutenant Elsa Copeland. “For all the good it did them.”

“What if Virix turns out to be a dead end?” asked Larson. “Has Alsar-9 provided us with alternative targets?”

“Yes, Commander,” Becerra confirmed. “Trouble is, they’re all showing as a much lower priority.”

Flint drummed his fingers. He knew the Lavorix had run into the Balon at some point and from their encounter had learned that this other species was not to be casually messed with. Perhaps the Lavorix had also calculated that, left alone, the Balon would become a real headache for the Kilvar.

“Too much guesswork,” said Flint. “We’ve been provided with a warship and a target. We’ll deal with whatever we run into.”

Larson grinned his way. “I recommend an immediate switchover into full superstress and then we get out of here, sir.”

Flint laughed. “Let’s hold off the superstress until we’re out of the bay.” He listened for a moment and the background hum of the ternium propulsion was like a warm embrace. “As far as this war is going, we’re still on the ropes. I have a feeling that if anything can deliver a comeback blow, it’s going to be the Hades.”

Larson’s grin didn’t fade and her eagerness to get on was infectious. She’d fought in dozens of knife-edge engagements during her time in the military, yet she hadn’t lost the appetite, nor the desire to win. “Yes, sir.”

The controls were perfectly weighted and when Flint took the Hades vertically off the bay floor, the propulsion note hardly changed to reflect the strain of lifting the annihilator’s 120 billion tons.

“Inform the Ancidium’s flight controller that we’re planning to depart,” said Flint, his eyes on the feed. Bay 4 was crammed with part-built hardware, most it unlikely to be finished in time to face the Kilvar.

“I have made our intentions known, sir,” said Burner. “The exit bay doors will open in twenty seconds.”

Flint rotated the Hades and aimed it for the door in the portside bay wall. The warship accelerated effortlessly above an ever-moving sea of shuttles and construction vehicles.

Alsar-9> The intrusions are increasing. You must act quickly.

Flint> What will acting quickly achieve if we cannot stop the intrusions?

Alsar-9> You may lose the Ancidium when you require it most.

Flint> Damnit, are you a god, or just a trillion lines of coding stuck in that sphere?

Alsar-9> I am not a computer. Perhaps I am not even trapped in this place.

Flint> Why is there never a straight answer?

Alsar-9> Truth is order. Even lies are order, for they are always predictable. Truth and lies together are chaos. And this universe is defined by chaos.

Flint> Thanks for the non-answer.

The sphere entity didn’t respond and Flint struggled against a foulness which threatened to overwhelm the recent positivity he’d felt about this mission.

“Sir?” said Larson.

Flint looked over.

“The exit door is open,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “Just more cryptic bullshit from Alsar-9.”

Taking a steadying breath, Flint guided the Hades into the huge tunnel which led through the Ancidium’s armour. The first door closed and the next one opened, revealing more of the tunnel. Flint piloted the warship into the next space and, no sooner had he done so, than the doors behind sealed and the final doors opened. Gazing into the void for a moment, he marvelled anew at its capacity to instil him with fear and awe alike. Then, Flint pushed the control bars along their guide slots and the Hades accelerated out from the protective walls of the Ancidium.

Once clear of the larger vessel’s hull, Flint increased the Hades’ velocity, first steadily and then with an increasing determination. The engines thundered and the Ancidium first dwindled and then became no more than a speck on the rear feeds.

“We’re out in the middle of nowhere,” said Burner, confirming what Flint already knew. “Nothing to slow us down.”

The warship’s velocity gauge climbed like it would never stop and the volume rose to become a physical force, which gripped Flint and filled him with exhilaration.

“Five thousand klicks per second, six thousand,” he shouted.

The rate of increase began levelling off, but Flint wasn’t done.

“Switch us into superstress, Lieutenant Fredericks.”

“Yes, sir.”

With each new warship, the superstress manifested itself a little differently and Flint didn’t know what would happen this time. The moment Fredericks activated the switchover to exium boost, the thunder receded and was overwhelmed by the hollow, bottomless inhalation of a slumbering titan. It was the same noise Flint remembered from the Firestorm, back when every venture into superstress was like peering into the abyss.

The velocity gauge found new life and it raced upwards so rapidly, the digits on the display recalculated to a higher value. And still, thought Flint, it might not be enough.

“Twelve thousand klicks per second,” he yelled. “Fifteen! Sixteen!”

“Holy crap, we could nearly outrun an on-boost hellburner,” said Larson, her eyes wide.

At a little over sixteen thousand kilometres per second, Flint backed off on the controls and let the Hades coast. The droning fell away and became laboured, as though the exium could not abide the constraint.

Damn, what have we unleashed?

With reluctance, Flint brought the Hades to a standstill.

“Lieutenant Fredericks, ready the gateway. Target the Gharal system, a billion klicks out from Virix.”

“Yes, sir. Coordinates entered and confirmed. We have an eight-minute warmup on the gateway activation.”

“So what about all those super-duper oblex cores?” asked Garrett. “Aren’t they meant to cut down on the calculation times?”

“The backend coding on the gateway hardware didn’t originate from the alliance and we haven’t got it running reliably on the oblex cores yet,” said Eastwood. “That task was somewhere on the to do list.”

“How much tenixite are we carrying?” asked Becerra. “Just so I know how many of these gateways we have in the tank.”

“No tenixite,” said Eastwood. “I thought you might have guessed – our gateway module runs off pure exium power, Lieutenant.”

“That’s good to know,” said Becerra. It even sounded like she meant it.

Flint listened carefully for an indication the gateway hardware was warming up, but all he could hear was the rasping of the superstressed engines. The timer counted down and he waited expectantly, no longer in fear of the pain.

At eight minutes, the gateway opened, producing a shriek unlike anything Flint had heard before. It had an edge like metal tearing, yet also possessed something of the living, as if it had been produced by the violent death of a sentient automaton. Flint remembered the ancient Earth legend of the banshee, and how its sound foretold a coming death.

Not this time.

A sphere of darkness engulfed the Hades, and the warship was taken elsewhere.

Chapter Seven

“Status reports!” Flint demanded. He felt lethargy from the transit, but could hardly believe how much his time in the chamber had reduced the physical debilitation. The warship was still in superstress and he increased velocity, accelerating blind into the vacuum.

No signs of anomalies on the power gauge. Maybe the alliance has finally tamed the exium.

“Sensors will be up at any moment, sir,” said Garrett.

“No red lights on the propulsion,” said Fredericks. “Looks as if we survived that gateway without anything breaking.”

“Sensors online!” said Garrett.

The bulkhead screens illuminated and Flint watched to see what they’d reveal, hoping it would be no more than darkness. He got his wish – every screen was of empty space.

“Commencing near scans,” said Burner. “These oblex cores are definitely filtering the sensor data way faster than usual.”

“Fars running,” said Garrett.

“I’m hunting for Virix,” said Becerra. “It might take a minute at this distance.”

“Nears done and clear,” said Burner. “Switching to the fars.”

“The fars are running like they’re on boosters,” said Garrett. “I’m expanding the base search sphere radius by twenty-five percent.”

“That’s twice the scan volume,” said Larson.

“I thought I’d start small, Commander.”

The increased fars radius didn’t turn up any threats and Flint reduced velocity, slowing the Hades to five hundred kilometres per second.

“Where’s Virix, Lieutenant Becerra?”

“It’s not in the place the Lavorix told us it would be, sir. I have data on its orbital track, but the planet isn’t in its expected position.”

“Lieutenant Burner will help out,” said Flint. “Lieutenant Garrett, continue the area scans.”

“Yes, sir.”

Flint didn’t like the unexpected and he didn’t much like waiting – at least not when he was so much on edge and ready for an enemy attack. He stared at the feeds, wondering if he might glean a feeling of what lay out there. No feeling came.

“Found it!” said Becerra, after only a few seconds. “Virix is about eight million klicks further along its track than was reported to us. Based on the detected velocity of the planet, the Lavorix estimated it to be travelling at fifteen klicks per second, when it’s actually travelling at fifteen-point-four klicks per second.”

“A rounding error,” said Burner contemptuously. “How did the Lavorix survive long enough to accumulate all those quadrillions of entries on their star charts if they made a basic miscalculation like that one?”

“Let’s not waste time thinking about it,” said Flint. “The Lavorix are dead and gone.”

“Sensor lock on Virix,” said Becerra. “We’re a long way out.”

By which she meant the detail was poor. From a billion kilometres, Virix was no more than a dark grey circle, overmagnified and shimmering on the centre of the bulkhead screen. As Flint stared, he felt an unexpected shiver and he didn’t know why. For the moment, he kept his mouth shut, so that his own unease wouldn’t rub off on the others.

“How much enhancement can you obtain with the oblex cores?” he asked.

“I’m working on it, sir.” Becerra muttered what might have been an oath. “Here you go – I’ve added some filters.”

The feed sharpened hardly at all.

“That’s not much better,” said Flint. “Is this a limitation of our sensor arrays? Has the backend processing overtaken the physical side of our sensor technology?”

“We should be obtaining a better feed than this, sir,” said Becerra. “Whatever filters I apply, the level of detail doesn’t improve.”

“What’re your opinions, Lieutenants Burner and Garrett?”

“I’ll be better placed to speculate when I’ve completed my checks on the feed data, sir,” said Burner.

“Fine. We’re staying here for another few minutes,” said Flint. “We need something – anything – that’ll give us an idea of what we’re heading into.”

“Yes, sir,” said Becerra. “That would be better done with the Hades at a standstill.”

“Bringing us to a halt,” said Flint. He glanced at Larson. “We all remember how skilled the Kilvar are at detecting opposing warships, even across enormous distances.”

“I didn’t forget, sir,” said Larson. “We could enter phase shift.”

“Our sensors have been modified to work in phase shift, sir,” said Burner. “But if the feeds become degraded like they did on the Nightfall, we’ll have zero chance of detecting anything useful at a billion klicks.”

“Let’s stay out of phase shift,” said Flint. “It might be to our benefit if we draw a few enemy spaceships out of the woodwork.”

“If anything appears, I’ll turn it into scrap,” said Larson.

Flint nodded. “While we’re out here, I want us to scan for comms receptors as well,” he said. “I doubt the Balon are friendly, but we can’t rule it out entirely.”

“I already ran a comms scan focused on Virix, sir,” said Burner. “There are no open receptors, and as you’re aware, anything military and created by a species on the same tech tier as the alliance is going to be invisible to us.”

“I know,” said Flint. “Keep looking and see if something comes up.”

With his spaceship halted, Flint’s agitation rose to match the feeling of increased vulnerability, and he kept his hand poised over the tactical in case he needed to activate an emergency short-range lightspeed transit.

“I’ve combined several of the lens filters and now we’re gathering better quality data, sir,” said Becerra. “I’ve detected unusually high levels of metallic elements on the planet.”

“Significant enough to indicate it’s industrialised?” asked Flint.

“Yes, sir.”

“A habited world,” said Flint. “Looks like we’re in the right place.”

“You’re about to tell us that something feels wrong,” said Larson.

“Something does feel wrong, Commander. You know it as well as I do.” Flint turned in his seat. “Lieutenant Burner, what if there was a death sphere around that planet?”

“A death sphere!” said Burner. “Damnit, why didn’t I think of that straightaway?”

“Maybe deep inside you didn’t want to believe that we’ve stumbled onto another planet of corpses,” said Larson.

“If the Balon are as mean and tough as we’ve been told – mean and tough enough to give the Kilvar something to think about – then perhaps they won’t have been killed,” said Fredericks.

“You reckon?” asked Maddox.

“Planets are usually soft targets, Lieutenant,” said Larson. “Any species which can’t defend its habited worlds is going to be easy meat for the Kilvar.”

“We don’t know how long ago Galtivon was captured, but Alsar-9 was certain the Kilvar would descend upon the Balon with overwhelming force,” said Flint. “We could be witnessing the outcome of that.”

“Perhaps the Balon didn’t understand the consequences of what they’d done,” said Larson. “It’s possible they didn’t realise how much hardware the Kilvar would deploy to free Galtivon.”

“And the Balon might have lost this planet as a consequence,” said Flint. “Maybe more planets than just Virix.”

“Now that you jogged my memory, I called up the right lens filters and there’s definitely a death sphere around Virix, sir,” said Burner. “I’d guess it extends thirty thousand klicks above the surface. I’ll stress the word guess.”

“What’s the likelihood you’ll be able to spot anything useful from this distance through the sphere?” asked Flint.

“If we stay here long enough, we might eventually be able to confirm the presence of habitation on Virix, but there’ll be big gaps in our knowledge.”

“Found something!” said Becerra. “It’s a long way from Virix – I’ve put it up on the screen.”

The object was far away – perhaps a quarter of a billion kilometres – so the details were poor. Heat and light spilled from what Flint guessed was once a deep space monitoring station, or a defensive platform.

“That hardware looks wrecked,” he said.

“Yes, sir, it does,” said Becerra.

“Those heat emissions are definitely not part of its normal operation?” Flint asked, just to be sure.

“No, sir, that thing is burning hot.”

“What kind of mass are we talking about?”

“Trillions of tons, sir. Maybe as much as five trillion.”

Fredericks gave a low whistle. “If it belonged to the Balon, that’s a big loss.”

“Lieutenant Becerra, can you confirm the platform’s original trajectory?” asked Flint.

“It’s possible it was knocked off course, sir, but right now it’s on an orbital track that’s only fractionally divergent from that of Virix.”

Flint drummed his fingers. “The planet might have a whole ring of such platforms, extending way out into the Gharal system, and following it around the star.”

“Are we sure that isn’t a warship?” asked Maddox.

“I can’t confirm with absolute certainty that it isn’t,” said Becerra. “But given the mass estimates, it’s beyond anything we’ve seen from the Kilvar – except perhaps the Vilekron. It could be Balon, but we don’t have enough data to confirm one way or another.”

“Whatever we’re looking at, it’s been subjected to an extensive bombardment,” said Flint, drumming his fingers some more.

“What next, sir?” asked Larson. “If the Balon created a network of those platforms around Virix, we don’t want to find out too late that some of them are still intact.”

“We have to do something, Commander,” said Flint. “The alternative is to choose another destination in our star charts and head off in the hope we’ll strike lucky. We have proof here of an engagement, and from that we can assume it was between the Balon and the Kilvar.”

“Time to put the Hades to the test?” said Maddox.

“I’m thinking about it,” said Flint. He remembered something he’d neglected to ask earlier, before the Hades left the Ancidium’s bay. “The Demagaron was fitted with comms hardware that allowed it to accept and respond to handshake requests from Kilvar warships.”

“Yes, sir, it was,” said Burner.

“Did the Ancidium install the same facility on the Hades?”

“No, sir, it did not.”

“Any idea why?” said Flint. The ability to respond to the Kilvar handshakes had allowed the Demagaron to venture among an enemy fleet in the Berongar system, without being immediately recognised. It would be a damned useful to have the same option fitted to the Hades.

“I can answer that one, sir,” said Eastwood. “The Lavorix software used to crack the Kilvar inter-ship codes will not yet run on an oblex core. And that’s a real shame because an oblex core—”

“Couldn’t the Ancidium have installed a dedicated hardware module that runs the handshake software?” Flint interrupted.

“I imagine the work involved reconfiguring the tie-ins to our comms system, power supplies and control software would have meant an overrun on the construction, sir.”

“Damnit,” said Flint. It was something he couldn’t change, so he put this setback from his mind and considered what to do.

The old Flint – the Flint from Tibulon, when the Kilvar first appeared in their seemingly invulnerable diamond-shaped warship – would have been cautious, and would have considered every possible way to minimise risk.

The new Flint – tempered by war and with a belief that action was better than inaction – wanted to throw caution to the wind and head straight to Virix at lightspeed. Such was the urgency of the mission that the pressure to act was like a constriction about his chest and neck, squeezing tighter with each passing moment.

“I’ve located some other wreckage, sir,” said Garrett. “It has a much lesser mass and is drifting a few million klicks from the deep space platform.”

“The remains of the attackers, the defenders, or both,” said Flint.

“I don’t need a sensor lock or a probability model to tell me there’s almost certainly a crapload of other debris around Virix,” said Burner.

The pressure continued building on Flint and he rolled his shoulders to ease some of the tension in his muscles. “I’ve got this feeling—” He stopped himself. “If there’s an ongoing engagement either at Virix, or in the space around it, what’re the chances our sensors will detect it happening from here?”

“That depends on what kind of weaponry is being deployed, sir,” said Burner. “If the Kilvar dropped a big enough bomb on the surface, we’d know about it. An engagement between two fast-moving fleets? Maybe not so much.”

“I think this is the end of our useful time at a billion klicks, sir,” said Larson.

“I agree,” said Flint.

“What about phase shifting?” asked Larson again. “Are you still comfortable making the Hades a target?”

Flint smiled thinly. “I’ve had a rethink.” He raised his voice. “Lieutenant Fredericks, activate the phase shift. And keep an eye on the exium modules for anomalies.”

“I’ve been watching the instrumentation like a hawk, sir,” said Fredericks, who, like Flint, hadn’t forgotten the crap they’d endured from the failure of exium modules in the past. “Up to now, there hasn’t been so much as a flicker on the monitoring tools.”

“Our scientists and engineers have put a lot of work into this, sir,” said Eastwood.

“I’m not doubting that for a moment, Lieutenant,” said Flint. He wanted to say more, but the past was in the past. “They’ve done a great job so far – now let’s find out what happens when we activate the phase shift.”

“Phase shift activated,” said Fredericks.

Flint immediately felt a vibration through the control bars and it was accompanied by a grating sound which neither rose nor fell in volume. The sensor feeds went blank all at once.

“I thought you said the sensors would work during phase shift, Lieutenant Burner,” said Flint. “Our navigational system won’t allow us to target Virix without them.”

“They will work, sir,” said Burner. “I need to make the switchover…there!”

A second after he spoke, the sensors came back online.

“The screens are covered in static, Lieutenant.”

“One more alteration—”

Burner finished his adjustments and the static all but vanished. A few speckles of it remained, sometimes so light it was hardly there, and at other times heavier, yet not so much that visibility was badly impaired.

“We can work with that?” asked Flint, seeking confirmation.

“Yes, sir.”

It was enough reassurance. Flint gave the instrumentation another glance. The phase shift power draw was enormous, but so far, everything was coping.

“Ready the ternium drive,” Flint ordered. “Target a hundred thousand klicks from the planet. When we exit lightspeed, we’ll play it by ear. If we run into something we can’t handle, we’ll get out of there and rethink.”

“We could jump to a quarter of a billion klicks, sir,” Burner suggested. “From that distance, we’ll have a much better view of Virix.”

“No,” said Flint. “At another time and in another place, I’d agree with your suggestion. Right now, something’s telling me we need to act quickly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve targeted a hundred thousand klicks above Virix, sir,” said Fredericks. “The Hades is fitted with ternium wave suppressors so nothing should detect our arrival.”

“If my thirty-thousand-klick estimate about the death sphere is wrong, we might end up below its surface, sir,” said Burner.

“I know,” said Flint. “That’s why I’m relying on your estimate being a good one.”

“What makes me think that one way or another, we’re soon going to be flying into that sphere?” asked Garrett sourly.

“If it happens, you’ll be thankful for our time in the chamber,” snapped Flint.

“Waiting for your confirmation to begin the lightspeed drive warmup, sir,” said Fredericks.

“Confirmed.”

“Two minutes and we’ll be on our way, sir. The transition times are becoming faster with each new generation of processors.”

The background hum of idling, superstressed ternium rose in volume. A deep, thrumming bass was overlaid by a whining sound, which steadily became a howl as the engines readied for discharge. The combination was one of technology – harnessed and controlled – mixed with something altogether more dangerous. Underlying everything was the hollow inhalation of exium. Flint felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

We’ve come back to embrace the chaos one more time.

Flint’s eyes went to the timer and then to the sensor feeds. He half-expected a bunch of Kilvar warships to emerge from lightspeed as they’d done so often in the past when he least wanted it. This time, Flint thought he might welcome an early engagement.

“Thirty seconds and we go,” said Fredericks.

“Into the unknown,” said Larson.

“Just like always, Commander.”

The digits on the timer fell and no Kilvar warships appeared. When the countdown hit zero, the Hades entered lightspeed.

Chapter Eight

The moment the transition faded, Flint pushed the control bars along their guide slots, producing a muted rumble from the propulsion. He kept the acceleration moderate – a hundred thousand kilometres wasn’t a lot to play with and he didn’t want an unlucky impact with the planet’s surface.

“No reds or ambers on the hardware, and no detected anomalies on our exium modules,” said Fredericks. “We came through that transit in full working order.”

“Sensors online,” said Burner, after a couple of seconds. “I’ve located Virix.”

Flint saw that he had indeed been on a collision course with the planet and he drew back on the controls, with the Hades sixty thousand kilometres above the surface. The whole of the planet was wreathed in a swirling, greasy darkness, and the annihilator wasn’t more than ten thousand kilometres above it.

“Looks like your estimate was a little out, Lieutenant Burner. But no harm done.”

“No, sir. Commencing local area scans,” said Burner. “I can tell you already we’ve got company and lots of it.”

“Fars running,” said Garrett.

“We’re near the outer edge of the death sphere,” added Becerra. “Beginning the surface sweep. It’s a mess down there, and there’s a crapton of stone debris in the planet’s orbit.”

There was no current requirement to dive into the sphere, so Flint brought the Hades’ nose up and aimed the spaceship along the cusp of darkness. Just a glance at what lay below was enough to confirm that the planet had been subjected to an extensive and devastating attack.

However, the presence of Kilvar warships suggested that something yet survived. The tactical began filling up with identified enemy spacecraft, along with orange dots representing targets that were categorised as potentially hostile.

“Kilvar warships detected on the planet’s eastern side, sir,” said Burner. “At least twelve, with others likely out of our current visibility.”

“I see them,” said Flint, his eyes on the sensor feed – a feed which was locked on a group of enemy diamond warships as they raced at a low altitude around the planet’s curvature. They crossed the line separating day from night and headed for the blind side of Virix.

“They’ve deployed missiles and bombs, aimed at what I assume is a Balon city,” said Garrett.

The city in question was a sprawling expanse of low-level alloy buildings, which were protected by a hemispherical shield of dark-blue energy. Flashing plasma explosions appeared in a hundred places and then a series of vastly larger blasts hid much of the Balon energy shield in bursts of darkness.

Other explosions drew Flint’s attention to a different feed. Four or five of the Kilvar diamond ships which had launched their weapons were themselves engulfed. Irregular spheres of fiery reds and oranges tore the enemy vessels into pieces. The others disappeared from the Hades’ sensors, vanishing blind side, though Flint doubted they’d reached anything like safety.

“I’ve detected yet more Kilvar ships to the planet’s north, sir,” said Garrett. “They’re bombarding another city.”

“The fars have located other warships, sir,” said Burner. “I’d say we’ve jumped right into the middle of a shitstorm.”

Flint didn’t act rashly. The phase shift would make the Hades far harder to spot, allowing him the breathing room he needed to gather information. His eyes darted from feed to feed. The ruins of vast alloy cities – hundreds in total – spoke of what must have been an extended and brutal confrontation.

While the Balon on Virix had not entirely fallen, it seemed they did not have long left, and when the battle was over, the Kilvar would inherit nothing worth having.

In one place, a city had been hit an incendiary attack and the intensity of the flames had melted the alloy structures into a vast lake of orange. Elsewhere, a separate city had suffered what must have been a hundred thousand plasma missile detonations, along with several explosions of a much higher yield. The craters formed by these larger blasts were more than a thousand metres across and the ground beneath was turned black.

A third city, along with a hundred kilometres of the rocky plain which surrounded it, had been struck by such a density of warship debris that it was hard to distinguish anything amongst the hundreds of overlapping craters. Flint stared, trying to determine if the torn and superheated lumps of alloy had originally come from Kilvar vessels or from those belonging to the Balon. Such was the extent of the damage these warships had suffered it was impossible to be sure which species had built them.

Everywhere Flint looked, the story was the same. Cities gone, and the living creatures they’d hosted surely gone with them. It was death and destruction on a colossal, monstrous scale – a mockery of the notion that war contained anything so idealistic as honour or justice.

“Look at this area here to the south, sir,” said Becerra. “It’s just coming into view.”

The place Becerra indicated was a great plain of rock, broken by vast fissures and incredible mountain ranges. Volcanic activity was rife and Flint noted dozens of eruptions, some large and some small. Clouds of ash hung low to the ground, adding to the dimness created by the death sphere.

However, that ash could not conceal the devastation. An immense warship – likely in excess of a trillion tons - had come down in two main pieces with enough velocity to shatter the surface across much of the visible southern hemisphere. The collision had formed a single, elongated indentation, dozens of kilometres deep, and cracks snaked like jagged scars. In places, lava overflowed, like this hurt to Virix caused its very lifeblood to spill.

Around the largest pieces of wreckage were the remains of many smaller spacecraft, all of them defeated and, in some cases, turned into thousands of pieces, which had landed on the planet and added to its trauma.

“Damn and hell,” said Larson quietly from the adjacent seat.

“Hell can’t be any worse than this, Commander,” said Flint.

His eyes went to another feed, and on it, he saw a huge furrow torn across the land, throwing up high sides of broken rock. The furrow went straight through the middle of a Balon city and continued for fifty kilometres beyond, where a Kilvar diamond warship had come to rest, its hull armour torn away and its crumpled stern protruding into the air.

Exposure to death hadn’t inured Flint to its horrors and he hated the sights of Virix. At the same time, he couldn’t draw his gaze away, as if this was something he couldn’t ignore, no matter how terrible it was to witness.

The sphere entity believed that a meeting between the alliance and the Balon would not end well. Even so, there is nothing to celebrate in this.

“Is this where we’ll find Galtivon?” Larson wondered aloud.

“I don’t know,” said Flint.

In the last few seconds, the number of red dots on the tactical had increased enormously. Arrayed against them was a smaller quantity of orange dots, these ones representing Balon warships.

Flint’s gaze lingered for a time on a pair of these latter vessels, which the Hades’ sensor arrays tracked as they accelerated through space a couple of million kilometres from Virix.

The Balon warships were approximately five thousand metres in length and with a mass of fifty billion tons or so. Their hulls were V-shaped and constructed from the darkest of materials. Four huge, forward-pointing and jagged spines – two jutting from the upper midsection and two from the lower - had no discernible purpose. In a way, the Balon craft reminded Flint of the Kilvar diamond vessels, though meaner and nastier somehow.

Flint had long believed he could glean something – a basic understanding of demeanour - about other species from the way they designed their spaceships and, if his unscientific theory held true, then the Balon were as hostile and aggressive as they came.

However, they were going to lose this battle against the Kilvar.

The two Balon craft were struck by simultaneous bursts of dark energy, fired from an unknown location. Energy shields appeared around the warships, deepening rapidly to the darkest of blues. Kilvar particle beams from multiple sources stabbed into the weakened Balon defences. Both shields vanished and yet more dark energy bursts ripped the alien vessels into rapidly corroding pieces.

So much was happening here at Virix, that it threatened to saturate Flint’s brain.

Four Kilvar diamond warships were struck by such a colossal blast of red and orange fire that he was sure the only source could be another of the deep space platforms which he’d seen earlier, when the Hades was a billion klicks from Virix.

Elsewhere, a fleet of fifty or more Kilvar vessels appeared out of synchronised lightspeed, hardly more than twenty thousand kilometres from the Hades. A dozen Balon vessels fired missiles – hundreds upon hundreds of them – and they streaked across the vacuum at a velocity which far exceeded that of an alliance hellburner. The blasts were massive and they wreaked havoc among the newly arrived Kilvar, destroying many and crippling others.

For their troubles, the Balon craft were targeted by particle beams and Kilvar missiles. One broke up in a spray of heat-saturated metals, while others were forced into short-range lightspeed transits.

Ballistic countermeasures from both sides started up, creating endless criss-crossing lines which spanned a hundred thousand kilometres or more and slivers of broken and smashed missiles glittered in the harsh lights of the confrontation.

“I’ve detected three warships, each of about a trillion tons, sir,” said Burner. “They’re a million klicks beyond Virix and judging from their designs, they’re Kilvar in origin.”

“What can we do to influence this, sir?” asked Larson.

Flint didn’t know. Although the Hades was packing enormous firepower, it couldn’t turn this battle around, even if he’d wished to do so. His mind kept going back to his past conversation with Alsar-9, in which the sphere entity had offered a scarcely veiled hint about what the Balon might do to the alliance should the two sides ever meet.

So, Flint kept the annihilator on its chosen course, while the battle raged. More of the planet became revealed with each kilometre travelled, and it was becoming apparent exactly how much of a commitment the Kilvar had made to overcoming the Balon.

“I’ve located two more deep space platforms, sir,” said Garrett. “One is out of action and the other is under attack from approximately two hundred Kilvar warships.”

“And here’s an engagement between about 150 Balon warships and almost three times that many Kilvar, sir,” said Burner. “It’s right across the edge of the planet and about a million klicks beyond. It only just come into our sensor arc.”

Fredericks swore in disbelief. “I can’t remember seeing anything like this before – not ever.”

“I doubt any of us can,” said Larson.

“The Balon have a few of their own capital ships,” said Burner. He made some changes to the sensors, which brought a cuboid behemoth into focus. Spikes jutted everywhere from this vessel and it spilled missiles and countermeasures into the surrounding space in quantities which made Flint’s mouth drop open. He’d always known the annihilators to be loaded up with guns and launchers, but it seemed as if the Balon had taken it a step further.

It wasn’t going to be enough. The huge vessel was under attack from hundreds of sources and, as Flint watched, its energy shield collapsed. Even with its defences down, the Balon warship didn’t seek escape, as if its crew had faith the hull armour would protect them from whatever was thrown their way. Or - more likely - because they had no charged SRT modules to get them out of trouble.

Plasma missiles detonated in hundreds of places on the Balon hull and two vast indentations appeared on its facing starboard flank, produced by gauss cannon impacts. Kilvar ships sped in for the kill, their particle beams plunging like blood-red spears into vulnerable alloy.

The Balon warship wasn’t done – its missiles pulverised eight or ten Kilvar vessels, while a dozen much larger explosives, fired from unseen launchers, destroyed or scattered many others.

“Based on what we saw at Berongar, we’re looking at two full Kilvar Seekings,” said Burner. “Maybe three.”

“Alsar-9 believes that twenty-seven Seekings remain,” said Flint. “Nine of them were already assigned to defeating the Balon, plus whatever additional resources the Kilvar decided were necessary to rescue Galtivon.”

“This is only one Balon planet,” said Larson. “I wonder where those other Seekings are deployed.”

Flint didn’t know. He looked once more at the underside feeds – at this world of stone and ash, with an atmosphere the annihilator’s sensors told him was reeking with toxic gases – and wondered if life could have ever sprung into existence here. He couldn’t imagine it was possible, and that made him think the Balon’s home world was elsewhere. Perhaps it was the place where they were holding Galtivon and perhaps it was under attack by six Kilvar Seekings. Or ten.

“The energy shield protecting the city below us has failed, sir,” said Becerra.

No sooner had she spoken than a single, massive explosion erupted above the centre of the exposed buildings. The blast sphere expanded until it was forty kilometres in diameter and so bright that the light from the feed cast stark shadows across the bridge.

When the explosion receded, little was left of the Balon city. The bomb had created a molten crater, rimmed with melted structures. Further from the centre of the blast, the city’s buildings burned and smoked, many of them flattened and others swept away. Centuries of history and civilisation, destroyed in an instant.

Such is the way of this conflict.

Flint had witnessed greater atrocities before, but it wasn’t becoming any easier to cope. If anything, each new genocide, each calculated cruelty, each glimpse into the worst abominations of the universe, was harder to deal with, as if the walls he’d had erected to protect himself had eroded to the point where they were ready to crumble and expose the foundations of his sanity.

“I don’t think many will mourn the Balon when this is over, sir,” said Larson. There was a hardness to her voice which made Flint look over. He caught the meaning in her stare.

Pick your battles. This is not ours.

Flint nodded. “What we’ve got here is one bunch of alien scumbags trying their damnedest to murder another bunch of alien scumbags,” he said.

“That’s right, sir,” said Larson, the hardness still evident. “Whichever side wins, the universe will be a better place. That’s what we have to believe.”

“And we should be grateful that our mission became a little easier,” said Flint. “Since for once, the alien scumbags are shooting at each other, rather than at us. That means there might be an opportunity here.”

“I knew you’d understand, sir.”

“What kind of opportunity?” asked Garrett.

“I’ll tell you when I see it,” said Flint.

Larson’s words had genuinely made him feel better about this whole situation. His only duty was to the alliance and anything which improved his chances of fulfilling that duty should be welcomed. The mental scarring could be dealt with later, but he might only have one chance to pull something useful out of this conflict between the Kilvar and the Balon.

With his hands and nerves steady, Flint piloted the Hades around Virix. His eyes roved from the sensors to the tactical, to the instrumentation and back again. The annihilator’s battle computer was aware of more than a thousand targets, though the numbers were decreasing with each passing second. Judging from the disparity between the Kilvar and the Balon fleets the outcome was already a certainty, and Flint guessed the latter would be completely out of the fight within the hour. What desperation would drive the Balon to, he didn’t know.

“We’ve completed a half-circuit of Virix, sir,” said Burner. “Galtivon might be down there somewhere but we’d never know it.”

Flint was hoping for a break – a clue that would dictate his next move. Although the Hades’ progress had so far been serene, with so many enemy warships in the arena, he didn’t expect that situation to last. Cold sweat formed on Flint’s scalp and he knew the tension was getting to him.

A fleet of twelve Kilvar warships appeared suddenly over the planet’s horizon, less than forty thousand kilometres from the Hades and under maximum acceleration. Flint saw them at once – they smashed right through a cloud of the orbiting stone debris without deviating at all. A glance at the tactical told him the enemy vessels were heading straight for a dogfight between the Kilvar and thirty or more Balon, which was taking place about half a million kilometres from Virix.

“On their current trajectory, those spaceships are going to pass within a few hundred kilometres of our position, sir,” said Becerra.

“They won’t make it that close,” said Flint, through gritted teeth. He knew what was about to happen and there was nothing he could do about it.

When the Kilvar ships were no more than ten thousand kilometres from the Hades, all twelve activated mode 3 transits and disappeared into lightspeed.

“Damnit,” said Larson. “Do you think they spotted us?”

Flint didn’t know for sure. Before a warship entered lightspeed, there was an infinitesimally small period when it was phase shifted. During that tiny window, other phase shifted warships were vulnerable to detection. That detection required such a degree of skill and watchfulness – or perhaps sensor hardware tuned for this exact task - that Flint would not have believed it possible had he not already seen it happen in the Landnir system.

For long moments, Flint held course, his jaw clenched and his eyes on the sensors.

“There are no obvious changes in the enemy behaviour, sir,” said Garrett. “Maybe they’re too occupied with the Balon.”

Flint hoped it was so, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. The Kilvar always seemed to do exactly the opposite of what he wanted.

And so it was this time.

A Kilvar diamond ship exited a short-range transit within fifty thousand kilometres of the Hades. It hung motionless for a few seconds while its sensors came back online. Then, it accelerated on a divergent course and entered lightspeed again.

“Shit!” said Flint. He wanted to crash his fist onto the console before him. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He hadn’t finished cursing when a second Kilvar warship exited mode 3, this time within twenty thousand kilometres of the Hades. Once again, it waited for a short period and then re-entered lightspeed, doubtless with its crew hunting for the presence of a phase-shifted warship.

“We’ve got to throw them off the hunt, sir,” said Larson. “They’re obviously interested to find out what we’re doing here.”

The bad situation wasn’t about to get any better.

“Sir! Something has happened to the planet’s surface!” shouted Burner. “Damnit, what the hell?”

Hardly daring to wonder what he and his crew had stumbled upon this time, Flint guided the annihilator onwards. He knew the wisest course of action was to get the hell away from Virix, to escape the Kilvar who’d got wind of his spaceship.

Somehow, he knew that if he turned back, the opportunity he’d been looking for would slip through his fingers and be gone. Flint watched the sensors to find out what was coming.

Chapter Nine

Within a few seconds, it was clear that the damage inflicted upon Virix was far more – vastly more – extensive than had first been apparent. Flint’s eyes were locked on the forward feed and he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

“It’s like this came straight out of a nightmare,” said Fredericks.

Flint didn’t say anything and he let his brain absorb the details.

Cracks had formed everywhere on the surface - narrow where they began and widening as they snaked erratically out of sight over the planet’s horizon. Some of these fissures grew to more than a hundred kilometres in width and were so deep that magma light cast a sullen illumination upon the visible walls.

“Those cracks lead to an indentation in the surface, sir,” said Garrett. “Something massive hit the planet and the sensor readings indicate it happened within the last few weeks.”

“A lot of debris was ejected into space by the impact,” said Becerra. “Some of it must have reached escape velocity, but there’s plenty more in orbit. That explains all the rocks we’ve been seeing as we circled the planet.”

A few seconds later, the view of the surface had improved enough that Flint could clearly see the cause of the indentation.

An object – a spaceship of immense mass – had crashed into Virix at a considerable velocity. The largest three pieces of the vessel had formed an irregular crater with a diameter of what the sensors estimated to be almost two thousand kilometres and a depth of several hundred. Lava had filled the bottom of the crater and the remains of the warship lay within a great red-orange ocean, the alloys of the vessel hardened beyond the capabilities of the heat to melt them.

All around the crater – in the fissures and on the rocky ground between them, smaller pieces of the spaceship were strewn liberally, their collisions having added to the extensive damage.

“My initial analysis suggests the warship that came down was fifty thousand metres in length and with an approximate mass of five trillion tons,” said Becerra. “That puts it squarely in the same class as the Vilekron.”

“It was definitely Kilvar in origin?” asked Flint.

“Yes, sir.”

“Our battle computer has identified the vessel, sir!” said Garrett.

“What do you mean?” asked Flint. “Tell me,” he added quickly.

“The warship is – was – the Interronus,” said Garrett. “Well, shit,” she added. “Apparently it was the command ship of several Kilvar Seekings.”

Flint made the mental leap. “Don’t tell me – this vessel belonged to Galtivon?”

“Yes, sir, it did,” said Garrett. “The data file we have on the vessel was injected into our databanks by the Ancidium, sir – presumably during the final stages of construction.”

“We’ve found the head of the snake,” said Fredericks. “And somebody already chopped it off for us.”

“This must be how the Balon captured Galtivon,” said Flint.

“They really did a number on the Interronus,” said Larson. “It looks as if it was struck by thousands of missiles and whatever other crap the Balon had in their arsenals.”

Flint’s mind was racing. This discovery was significant – enormously significant. Unfortunately, the Kilvar weren’t about to offer him any time to consider the situation – a pair of their diamond ships exited lightspeed within ten thousand kilometres of the Hades.

Acting on instinct, Flint activated the annihilator’s mode 3 before the enemy warships could recover from sensor blindness. The thumping in-out stacked transitions produced a fleeting nausea and nothing else.

“Waiting on sensors,” said Burner. “Sensors online.”

“I didn’t take us far,” said Flint.

In this case far was all relative. Even the shortest mode 3 transit was enough to carry a warship out of trouble.

The Hades was still in superstress and Flint tapped into the engines. With a whine and a rumble, the battleship accelerated strongly from its stationary position.

“Virix located,” said Garrett. “Distance: ten million klicks and we’re now facing the opposite side of the planet.”

From here, the sensors had a much more expansive view of the battle raging around Virix. Most of the combat was taking place within five million kilometres of the surface, though other engagements were happening much further out.

Flint had only wished to earn some breathing room and, when no Kilvar warships appeared within the first thirty seconds, he started to believe his SRT to a mere ten million kilometres was a calculated gamble which had paid off.

At Landnir, the Kilvar had proven exceptionally – irritatingly – tenacious in their pursuit of the Nightfall and he didn’t expect the enemy would have forgotten about his presence here in the Gharal system. The best hope was that they’d be so tied up fighting the Balon that they’d lose track of the Hades long enough that they wouldn’t be able to pick up the trail again.

“The Balon are losing this battle, sir,” said Garrett. “It won’t be long until the Kilvar are able to give a much greater focus to locating the Hades.”

“I know,” said Flint. He didn’t need it spelling out. “Is there anything of interest on this side of Virix?” he asked.

“I’m looking, sir,” said Becerra. “We have a much better view of the Interronus’ impact crater from here. It’s on the screen.”

From ten million kilometres, the crater appeared hardly less dramatic than when it was viewed from much closer range, and the lines of magma within the fissures created a pattern that was both wonderful and appalling at the same time. It was the kind of sight that could only happen in the effective infinity of the universe.

“Galtivon came here,” said Flint. “It believed an attack on Virix would bring a great enough reward as to be worth the risk of committing to an engagement.”

“And the Balon showed the Kilvar bastards the error of their ways,” said Maddox. “They shot down the Interronus, along with a bunch of the spaceships which came with it.”

“Then, the Balon captured Galtivon from the wreckage and that was enough to prompt this much more extensive attack on the planet,” mused Flint.

“Do you believe Galtivon might still be here?” asked Larson.

Flint shook his head uncertainly. “I’m not sure,” he said, working things through in his mind. “If the Kilvar originally had set nine Seekings against the Balon, plus whatever others they dispatched after the capture of Galtivon, then I’d expect to see thousands more enemy warships here at Virix. The Kilvar would have sent everything they had available.”

“Two or three Seekings is enough to crush the resistance at Virix,” said Larson. “This could be nothing more than punitive.”

“The Kilvar never lose sight of their goal, Commander,” said Flint. His brain made the connection. “If Galtivon isn’t here, then it’s elsewhere, and that means the Balon took it away from the Gharal system.”

Larson understood too. “So the Kilvar are still here because they believe there’s something on Virix which will show them how to locate Galtivon.”

“That’s what I reckon,” said Flint, suddenly convinced he’d guessed right.

“It’s a big planet, sir,” said Garrett.

“I know. We should look for a place which the Kilvar are making no effort to destroy,” said Flint. “Continue scanning the surface. See if you can locate somewhere the enemy have captured without incinerating.”

“Like the Kilvar warship that first attacked the Amber base on Basalt,” said Fredericks.

“Maybe,” said Flint. The way he remembered it, the enemy ship had directed plenty of its firepower at the base, but he knew what Fredericks was getting at. “The Kilvar might have positioned their warships over a facility here on Virix and they might have deployed their ground troops.”

“We’re too far away to spot anything on the ground, sir,” said Garrett. “There’s a chance we might detect a transport vessel if it was large enough, but no guarantees.”

“Do what you can,” said Flint. He pushed the control bars as far as they would go and the propulsion output gauge leapt to one hundred percent. “We’re heading in closer, so things should become easier to spot.”

The annihilator’s acceleration was savage and the velocity gauge kept on climbing. When it surpassed ten thousand kilometres per second, the noise was a primal, bestial mix of guttural roar, howl and whine, combined with the breath of a god.

“Fourteen thousand klicks per second!” yelled Eastwood, with the sheer, unfettered joy of a man who lived to make things go faster.

The electronic needle showed no sign its rate of increase was about to slow. Several of the monitoring tools on Flint’s console began showing crazy readings and he saw that the power generation exponent of the exium modules had doubled. As he watched, it doubled again, to a reading so high Flint had no idea if it was correct.

“Sir, there are multiple anomalies on one of the exium blocks!” shouted Fredericks urgently. “We can’t sustain this rising output for much longer without risking the depletion of our exium.”

Flint hauled back on the controls, astounded to discover the Hades had touched on eighteen thousand kilometres per second. What was even more astounding – terrifying, perhaps – was the fact the warship’s rate of acceleration had continued to climb as the velocity increased.

“Have the anomalies been suppressed?” Flint asked as the electronic needle tumbled.

“Yes, sir – the control system took care of them,” said Fredericks. He sounded excited, despite this first appearance of exium anomalies. “This is speculation at the moment, but I’d say the number of anomalies was increasing with the same exponent as the propulsion output.”

“I wonder where the hard limit will lie,” said Eastwood, with equal enthusiasm. “If we tied enough oblex cores into the control system, we could potentially eliminate the anomalies and allow for many additional seconds of maximum acceleration.”

“But what of the exium depletion?” asked Fredericks. “I’d need to run the theoretical outputs against the—”

“While this is a fascinating discussion,” said Flint, holding the annihilator at a comparatively relaxed ten thousand kilometres per second. “I think we should concentrate on the matters at hand.”

“These are the matters at hand, sir,” Fredericks protested. “What if we’re required to escape from a situation, utilising every last ounce of this warship’s capabilities, yet without risking the stability of our engines?”

“Fine,” said Flint, knowing when he was beaten, but also being fully interested in whatever speculation his engine officers would come up with. “Keep it among yourselves. Our first priority is to locate a Balon comms hub, or somewhere else they might have recorded the destination of Galtivon. And I don’t want any distractions.”

“Yes, sir,” said Fredericks.

“How is the scanning of Virix proceeding?” asked Flint.

“We’ve made excellent progress in the whole two minutes since you ordered us to start looking, sir,” said Burner. “And pinpoint scanning is so much easier with five-figures up on the velocity gauge.”

“This is a pressure situation, Lieutenant,” said Flint. Larson was grinning at him and he tried to ignore her. “There’s a lot riding on us handling it efficiently. Do your best.”

“Yes, sir,” said Burner.

“There’s no sign of Kilvar warships back at our lightspeed emergence point,” said Becerra. “That’s good news for us.”

It was good news, though Flint wasn’t nearly convinced the Kilvar had given up on the Hades. They’d resume the search as soon as they were able, of that he was certain. It was this thought which made him reluctant to reduce the warship’s velocity any further. At ten thousand kilometres per second, the Hades would arrive at Virix in less than twelve minutes and Flint hoped his sensor team would come up with something much sooner than that.

“I’ve identified a couple of potential locations, sir,” said Burner. “There may be others I’ve missed – Lieutenant Becerra is double-checking.”

“And I’m going through the sensor recordings we gathered after our initial arrival at Virix, sir,” said Garrett. “Gut feel is there’s nothing, but I’ll tell you for definite as soon as I can.”

“Thank you,” said Flint. “Lieutenant Burner, put those two locations up on the screen.”

“Here’s the first, sir,” said Burner.

The feed was enhanced and of good quality, albeit with some blur resulting from the presence of the death sphere.

“That doesn’t look like much,” said Flint. “A walled compound on the outskirts of a ruined city. A couple of towers and a few other buildings.”

“That’s right, sir. Watch what happens when I zoom out.”

Flint stared. The Kilvar had levelled most of the nearby city, but there was a clear line where the destruction stopped, and that line ran parallel to the surface facility.

“If that’s a comms station, where are the antennae?” asked Flint.

“It’s likely the Balon installed a planetwide network of antennae, sir, and each comms hub routes to one of those transmission places using underground conduits.”

“Is there any Kilvar warship activity that gives an indication they’re interested in the place?” asked Flint.

“Nothing specific,” said Burner. “If I had a target I was very keen to infiltrate, I probably wouldn’t give the game away by positioning a fleet of warships on top of it.”

“No, I’m sure you wouldn’t,” said Flint. “Show me the other site.”

“Here,” said Burner.

The bulkhead screen changed to display the new feed.

“Another compound,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir. You’ll notice this one is out in the middle of nowhere. Or on a volcanic plain if you want to be precise.”

“You’re sure these compounds are comms hubs?”

“You have your instincts and I have mine, sir.”

“I’ve completed my sweep of the planet’s visible side, sir,” said Becerra. “Based on the location and distance between these intact compounds, I predicted where other hubs might be situated. All of those sites are destroyed.”

“It’s the same on the sensor recordings, sir,” said Garrett. “The Balon comms hub network was positioned logically on the surface and only those two stations are currently intact.”

“With the possibility of others elsewhere on Virix, sir,” said Burner. “We have twenty-four percent of the planet unscanned.”

“This second compound,” said Flint, still staring at the feed. “It seems like as good a place as any.”

“To do what, sir?” asked Maddox.

“To get in and steal the data on Galtivon before the Kilvar can retrieve it, of course.”

“But there’s a full-scale war going on, sir.”

“Nothing we can’t handle, Lieutenant. Besides, what better time than when the Kilvar are occupied with other things?”

Maddox could have pointed out any one of a dozen flaws in Flint’s reasoning, but for once, she kept her mouth shut.

Larson was not so reticent. “I assume this means a deployment, sir?”

A sideways glance was enough to reassure Flint that Larson agreed with his decision. “Yes. If it’s at all possible, a deployment,” he said. “I’m thinking on the details.”

“Should I order Captain Vance to prepare, sir?” asked Becerra.

“Please do. If I can figure out a viable method to get him and his company on the ground, he’ll be departing from Shuttle Bay 1.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll let him know. Should he bring one of the oblex devices?”

“Yes.” Flint tapped his fingers on the arm of his seat in thought. “And one of the AnRak guns.”

“Do you think—?” Larson began.

“It makes sense to be prepared, Commander.”

At that moment, five trillion tons of Kilvar alloy arrived from out of nowhere to turn Flint’s plans into crap.

“Sir!” shouted Garrett. “Check out the feeds!”

Flint had already seen. A new warship of incredible mass and dimensions had emerged into sight across the Virix horizon. Where it had come from, he had no idea, but all he could do was stare in fury as it travelled sedately across the planet’s surface, just beneath the outer extremes of the death sphere.

“Fifty thousand metres and the same approximate mass as the Interronus,” said Burner.

“A diamond ship on Frenziol,” said Larson.

It was an accurate description, since this vessel did indeed resemble a Kilvar diamond ship, albeit on a much larger scale. The hull of the enemy craft was studded with emplacements, though from this distance Flint couldn’t be sure what they were, other than that vague classification of weapons.

“There’s an entry for this one in our battle computer as well, sir,” said Burner. “The warship is called Cadavax and it is believed to be commanded by one of the Shadows of Kilvus.”

“Which one?” asked Flint. It didn’t make much difference what his opponent was called, but he felt obliged to ask.

“Seviron, sir.”

“Do we have any other data on the enemy or its spaceship?”

“No, sir.”

“What’s it doing here?” asked Garrett. “The battle is won.”

“What do you think it’s doing here?” asked Flint bitterly. “Watch.”

For a few seconds, the bridge was silent as the Cadavax flew across the planet. Then, it came to a halt, directly above the target comms hub.

Maddox was the first to speak. “I guess that rules out a deployment there.”

“It might rule out a deployment everywhere,” said Flint angrily.

“Uh, sir, the comms hub near the city has just been incinerated,” said Becerra. “That leaves only one known hub on Virix.”

Flint ground his teeth together. Having come up with an – admittedly risky – plan, he should have known it wouldn’t be straightforward.

Now, he and his crew were facing a Kilvar capital ship and it was sitting right on top of his target. If the enemy extracted the data in that comms hub, they’d use it to locate and free Galtivon. When that happened, there’d be no way to stop the Kilvar ascendancy.

Flint cursed and asked himself how the hell he was going to turn things around.

Chapter Ten

“We could destroy the comms hub with lightspeed missiles, sir,” said Larson, offering a practical and credible plan.

“We could,” Flint agreed. “But what if the Kilvar are also fighting at other Balon planets? Eventually, they’ll gain control of a different comms hub and extract from it the location of Galtivon. Meanwhile, we’ll have lost our own chance to find the target.”

Larson pursed her lips as she considered Flint’s words. “So our only real hope is to find Galtivon before the Kilvar and then test out our exium weaponry to see if it’s effective against a Shadow of Kilvus.”

“I don’t like it any better than you,” said Flint. “Even if we make a successful deployment of our troops, this is going to be tough on Captain Vance and everyone with him.” A new plan was forming in his head. “And it’s going to be tough on us as well.”

“Is there no alternative?” asked Lieutenant Copeland. “Maybe the Balon will send reinforcements and drive off the Kilvar.”

“This is too important to rely on maybes,” said Flint. He bit down on a curse. “We have to act based on what’s in front of us.”

“There’s only one way I can think of that will allow us to make a shuttle deployment,” said Larson, staring directly at Flint.

“Yes,” he said. “We’ll have to give the Cadavax a reason to move from its existing position.”

“And we don’t have long, sir,” said Larson. “The Kilvar want the data in that comms hub and that means they’ll have already launched their own transports.”

“We might be able to do something about that,” said Flint, his mind working furiously to slot the pieces of this jigsaw together.

“Am I the only one who remembers what happened when we faced the Vilekron?” asked Garrett. “I seem to recall that it could also phase shift and then it created a stasis field that allowed it to capture the Nightfall and the Takrivon. Won’t the Cadavax hit us with the same tech?”

“Not this time,” said Flint. “This time, we have plenty of oblex cores with us and we’re going to use them to create constant stasis reversal pulses. If the Kilvar think they’ll catch us with a sucker punch, I’ve got news for them.”

“We don’t need to use the oblex cores, sir,” said Eastwood. “I can instruct this warship’s exium modules to generate negation pulses with as large a radius as you require.”

“Will there be any downsides?” asked Flint.

“An increased depletion rate on the exium, sir – an increase which will scale upwards with the volume of the negation sphere.”

“And that’s all?”

“Plus the usual other caveats which run side-by-side with every piece of exium technology,” said Eastwood.

“Just thought I’d ask,” said Flint. He raised his voice. “Lieutenant Becerra, what progress is Captain Vance making towards Shuttle Bay 1? And please confirm you have made him aware of his mission goals.”

“I have made him aware, sir. I’ll check on his progress.” Becerra spoke quietly for a few moments. “Captain Vance and one of his platoons are already in the shuttle, along with the oblex unit and AnRak-1.”

“How’d he get there so fast?” asked Flint.

“I think he was conducting training exercises in the area, sir.”

It was a knack Vance had, to be always where he was needed, though it remained to be seen exactly how much Vance himself appreciated this innate talent of his.

“How long before the rest of his company is onboard?”

“Several minutes, sir.”

Flint swore under his breath. He’d cut this too fine – the Cadavax was surely sending thousands of Kilvar troops on shuttles towards the comms hub and with each passing second, the odds tipped further in the enemy’s favour.

Having fought more than his fair share of knife-edge engagements, Flint knew that decisive action was one of the primary elements of success. He rotated the Hades so that it was flank-first towards Virix and then let it coast.

“Commander Larson, target the Cadavax with the Terrus-VI cannons,” he said.

“All eight, sir?”

“Yes, all eight. What’s that I hear you muttering, Lieutenant Eastwood? Is there something I need to be aware of?”

“These are still technically experimental weapons, sir,” said Eastwood. “If we fire all eight at once—” He huffed loudly. “Screw it. What better time to run a stress test of the hardware?”

“Cadavax targeted,” said Larson. “Ready to fire on your word, sir.”

“Is someone going to tell me what the plan is?” asked Burner.

“We’re about to hit the Cadavax with our Terrus cannons, Lieutenant. That should be enough to make those Kilvar bastards run for the hills. The moment they split, we’ll mode 3 to that comms hub, deploy the shuttle and get the hell away while Captain Vance steals the Balon’s data.”

“We’re phase shifted, sir,” said Maddox.

“I know. The Terrus-VI guns will fire, isn’t that right, Lieutenant Eastwood?”

“Almost certainly, sir!”

“If we deploy the shuttle when we’re phase shifted—” Maddox continued.

“The transport and everyone on it will slowly return to normal phase,” said Flint.

“Over a period of several hours,” said Eastwood. “During which time the shuttle’s occupants may or may not be able to interact with objects in normal phase.”

“Enough talk,” said Flint. In his own mind, he was clear on what he had to do. “We’ll switch the Hades into normal phase for the deployment. That will also give us a chance to take out any Kilvar shuttles which might be in flight, as well as those which have already landed. Tell Captain Vance to prepare for launch – with whoever is on that shuttle when the order comes.”

“Yes, sir,” said Becerra.

It was time. When he gave the command, Flint felt nothing but calm.

“Fire the Terrus cannons.”

“Terrus cannons T1, T2, T3, T4: fired,” said Larson.

Flint wasn’t sure what to expect from the discharge and what he got was a mixture of good and bad. Even before the whine of gauss coils and the boom of immense recoil suppressors reached the bridge, the Cadavax was stuck multiple times by the Terrus projectiles.

The Kilvar warship’s shield went from bright blue to black in an instant and then it winked out. Five massive slugs, much of their potential energy absorbed by the now-depleted shield, struck the Cadavax along its flank, creating enormous ruptures in its armour plating. Heat spread from the impact zones, turning huge areas into the brightest of whites.

A sixth Terrus projectile went wide of its target and struck Virix with thundering force. Shockwaves rippled outwards and an immense cloud of rock and particles was thrown into the sky.

The sound of discharge rolled through the bridge, along with a screeching, tearing sound. Several red lights appeared on Flint’s console and his eyes darted to the peripheral sensor feeds, where he saw that the rearmost turret had been nearly ripped from the annihilator’s hull. The enormous housing was now only attached by a handful of its internal struts, and those were badly bent and doubtless on the brink of snapping.

The Cadavax vanished.

“They’re on the run, sir!” said Burner.

Flint didn’t hesitate. His mode 3 destination was already selected and he squeezed the activation button on the controls. The twin transitions made him grimace and this time the queasiness didn’t fade.

We’re inside the death sphere.

“Waiting on sensors!” said Garrett. “Sensors up!”

The Hades’ navigational computer had brought the annihilator to the exact place Flint had intended, that being five thousand metres directly over the tallest of the structures in the Balon comms hub.

“Bring us out of phase shift!” shouted Flint.

Fredericks responded immediately. “Phase shift cancelled, sir.”

“Lieutenant Becerra, send the launch order to Captain Vance!”

“Order sent, sir!” Becerra confirmed.

“Scanning for the Cadavax,” said Burner.

“Kilvar targets identified,” said Larson. “Six transports and four diamond warships within a thousand klicks.”

“Blow them to pieces,” snarled Flint.

“Captain Vance’s shuttle will be clear of the Hades in approximately five seconds, sir,” said Becerra. “Then we can go.”

“Not until those enemy transports are down,” said Flint.

“Underside railers locked and set to full automatic,” said Larson. “Topside hellburner clusters one through twelve: fired!”

The two Kilvar warships reacted quickly and red particle beams lanced into the Hades’ energy shield. A flicker on the reserve gauge wasn’t enough to concern Flint, though he was less pleased when the enemy vessels simultaneously dropped cannisters from their underside chutes.

“Energy bombs!” said Larson.

The enemy deployment of countermeasures was a fraction of a second too late and Flint watched with satisfaction as ninety-six hellburners tore the Kilvar warships into molten pieces. A moment later, the two shock bombs exploded ineffectually into spheres of bright blue.

“Railer attacks successful. Enemy transports down,” said Maddox.

“Captain Vance’s shuttle has exited the launch tunnel,” said Becerra. “He’s picked a spot and is heading for the ground.”

“We’re starting to attract attention, sir,” said Burner. “From both the Kilvar and the Balon.”

“Nobody wants us here,” said Fredericks.

“In that case, let’s get the hell away,” growled Flint.

He tapped into the engines and the Hades accelerated. Vance’s shuttle fell behind, but Flint was wary about a mode 3 activation until he’d put some more distance between the two vessels.

“There goes our turret,” said Maddox.

Flint saw a blur of movement as the last of the Terrus housing support struts broke, allowing the turret to skitter and bounce along the annihilator’s topside armour, and then fall towards the planet’s surface. He didn’t make an effort to find out where the debris ended up.

“We need to get out of here, sir,” said Larson tightly. “Any time you’re ready.”

“Enemy missile launch detected,” said Maddox. “Now that we’re no longer on top of the comms hub, it seems like everyone’s decided we’re a fine target.”

“Screw them,” said Flint.

He activated an SRT and the Hades disappeared into lightspeed. Flint held it there for as long as possible. The moment it emerged, Flint requested maximum from the propulsion, producing a cacophony of superstressed exium and ternium.

Fighting against the unsuppressed edges of the accelerative forces, Flint checked the timers – the annihilator’s first mode 3 module had finished its cooldown and was ready for activation if needed. Unfortunately, the phase shift wouldn’t be available for another four minutes.

“We attacked fast and got out of there just as quickly,” said Larson. “Let’s hope it was enough to shock our enemies and allow Captain Vance an opportunity to enter the comms hub.”

“It’ll have to be,” said Flint.

The sensors were up and all they showed was darkness. Virix was a long way behind. For the time being, Vance and his soldiers were on their own.

Flint had no way to influence the outcome of the ground mission, but that didn’t mean his involvement in the mission was over. Not by a long shot. At some point – hopefully - he’d be required to make the pickup and he doubted that would be a walk in the park. And that assumed the Cadavax didn’t track down the Hades before Captain Vance was ready for extraction.

Given his experience with the Kilvar so far, Flint wasn’t expecting them to give up. He tightened his grip on the controls and gritted his teeth. Inside, his mind tried its hardest to predict the future, perhaps to influence whatever was to come.

Chapter Eleven

At its launch altitude of five thousand metres, the view from the shuttle was dismal – all volcanic rock and mountains, along with craters and scattered debris, much of which still burned or smouldered. Ash and other particles filled the air, combining with the greasy thickness of the death sphere to make Virix seem like the least hospitable place Vance had ever visited. And he’d seen some real shitholes in his time.

That death sphere hadn’t killed anyone yet, though Vance felt it clinging to him, like wet clothes on a drowning man. His body ached distantly and his fingers tingled, as if his circulation wasn’t right. Here in the shuttle’s cockpit, the presence of the sphere made everything indistinct, reminding Vance of a thick fog in the night time gloom.

His eyes went to the underside and nose feeds. The comms hub complex was situated within a square compound, with two-kilometre perimeter walls. Inside those walls, numerous anonymous buildings gave no clue as to what they might contain.

“Captain Flint and his crew gave us a good start,” said Lieutenant Tagra, sitting in one of the adjacent seats. He tapped a finger on the viewscreen, where the wreckage of a huge Kilvar shuttle had crashed down onto the wall of the hub compound. Other pulverised and scarcely recognizable pieces of enemy vessels had landed outside the walls. “They shot down all of the inbound transports.”

“And the Hades’ turret destroyed a third of the compound,” said Charnos. He sounded pleased, though his estimation was something of an exaggeration. The falling turret had struck the south-eastern corner of the facility, flattening the walls and several buildings, before coming to rest a few thousand metres to the south-west.

“Keep a close watch for Kilvar troops,” Vance warned. There were few better ways of grinding meat than sending a burst of concentrated railer fire into the unwilling flesh of your enemies, but he knew well enough that the Kilvar didn’t succumb to bullets as easily as most creatures.

“I’m watching,” said Tagra. “If anything moves, I will cut it to pieces with our nose gun.”

“Lieutenant Becerra suggested we set down as close as possible to this central building here,” said Vance, tapping his own finger on the screen. The building he indicated was a tower of featureless metal, less than two hundred metres tall and with a narrow base. It was in the centre of the compound and surrounded by other, lower buildings.

“Then that is where we should set down,” said Charnos.

In reality, Vance hadn’t intended to deviate from Becerra’s recommendation, but he’d been interested to find out if Charnos had anything to add, since the Daklan had more comms training than anyone else on the shuttle. With everyone in agreement, Vance piloted the shuttle straight down.

The transport was heavily armoured and with powerful engines - and that made it big. Therefore, Vance wasn’t able to land it as close to the target building as possible. He chose an area of flat ground about three hundred metres south. An alley led north between two buildings and ended up at the central tower. After that, Vance could only hope he and his soldiers would encounter no difficulty breaking in.

No mission was predictable and sometimes, he knew, the only option was to keep pushing the barriers until they broke. Or to hit them with shoulder-launched missiles.

“Here we go,” said Vance.

The ground came up fast and he got the shuttle level. A moment later, the transport thumped down hard, producing a crunch and a shriek from its landing gear.

“Let’s move!” shouted Vance on the comms. “Override the airlock and get the hell off this shuttle!”

He scrambled from his seat, collecting his Rodan shotgun and gauss rifle on his way to the exit. As he descended the stairs leading from the cockpit, Vance gave further orders on the platoon comms, barking them out in a staccato. The soldiers he had with him were the oldest of hands and they knew the ropes. Equally, they knew what they’d been dumped into, despite the speed with which it had happened. Vance reckoned he’d been given hardly five minutes between notice of the mission and its commencement. It was probably a new record, though on balance, he’d have preferred to keep the old record intact.

“Outer airlock opening,” said Private Eric Drawl on the comms. “Hold onto your hats.”

Vance immediately felt the air being sucked past him. The current only added impetus to his strides and he exited the stairwell. The passenger bay smelled new, though Vance hardly noticed. He looked straight along the passage leading to the airlock, where his soldiers were already passing through. Vance had a sense of them – they were impatient to get things moving and equally impatient for it all to be over.

“I’ve got the oblex core, sir,” said Lieutenant Gantry. “AnRak-1 is in the cargo bay – should I set it to follow? There isn’t a hell of a lot of space between these buildings outside.”

It was a question Vance had already asked himself and he wasn’t sure one way or the other. AnRak-1 was eight metres by five and with a ten-metre barrel. He needed to see the lay of the land with his own eyes to be sure he was making the right choice.

“I’ll let you know in a moment,” said Vance.

He sprinted down the exit ramp, casting his eyes about. From outside, Virix looked even less inviting than he’d imagined. The air stank and without the benefit of his helmet filter, Vance knew he’d be dead in moments.

Ash from the volcanic activity on this area of the planet was everywhere, and it drifted lazily, except where it was carried along by the motions of unseen currents of wind, or the movements of the soldiers as they hurried away from the transport towards the scant cover offered by the alley a short distance away.

Directly ahead, the nearest buildings of the comms hub complex were slab-sided and sheer, like prefabricated boxes laid directly onto the basalt. The ground itself was flat, and possessed a faint sheen, as if the Balon had polished it smooth before lowering these buildings into place.

“Six metres between those two buildings,” Vance said. “That’s tight.”

“I can’t make out the door to the target structure from here, sir,” said Gantry. The man was a few paces along the alley, with the oblex core floating a couple of metres behind him. “The worst that can happen is we have to leave the AnRak gun outside.”

“Are we expecting to find Galtivon here?” asked Tagra.

“Not expecting, Lieutenant.”

Tagra laughed.

“Let’s bring the gun,” said Vance, knowing exactly what his officer was thinking about the word expecting. “What do we have to lose?”

He was interfaced with the shuttle’s onboard systems and sent over a command for the cargo bay to open. The door hinged outwards, settling on the ground and forming a ramp. Inside, Vance saw the angular shape of AnRak-1.

“Lieutenant Tagra, I’m putting you in charge of the gun,” he said.

“Yes, Captain Vance.”

Vance was eager to be away from the shuttle, since defenceless vessels like this usually had targets painted on their topside armour. However, he wasn’t about to leave Tagra alone, so he waited the twenty seconds it took the Daklan to link with AnRak-1 and order the gun out of the cargo bay. The turret was enormous and Vance’s doubts returned – this was a weapon far too cumbersome for this mission.

Setting those doubts aside, Vance set off for the alley, where the platoon waited for him to give the order to advance.

“At least nobody’s shooting at us yet, huh?” said Private Faye Raven. The words were calmly spoken, but indicative of her agitation.

“And how long is that going to last?” asked Private Weiland Steigers. “We’re on our own this time – right until we’re done.”

“When did you ever start a mission expecting backup?” asked Drawl. “I know I never did.”

“Be quiet and move!” said Vance.

He sprinted for the gap between the buildings, trying to make ground on the soldiers who had a fifty-metre head start. His platoon numbered only twenty – all he’d been able to bring to the shuttle before the order came to deploy – and they looked insignificant in comparison to the alien structures around them.

It was another example Vance didn’t need of the frailty of life and how flesh, bone and consciousness were in danger of becoming obsolete in a universe of ever greater and more abhorrent technology.

“I’m at the target structure,” said Lieutenant Gantry on the comms.

“He rode Oblex#40 all the way there,” said Carrington. “Like a cowboy in our new age of extinction.”

Vance was near the back of the pack, but he didn’t have far to go. The walls of the buildings to his left and right were eighty or so metres tall and the gap between them felt confining – more like two metres than six. He turned once mid-stride and Tagra was a few paces back. The barrel of AnRak-1 protruded high over the Daklan’s head and the sight of the weapon made Vance feel like he was being chased by an unstoppable tank.

A second alley intersected this first one, and directly across from Vance was the target building. It was much taller than the others, though no more interesting except in the potential of what it might hold.

“Find an entrance,” said Vance.

He could have saved his breath. Two soldiers were already sprinting right and two others had gone left in the search for a way inside. The rest stood watchfully, pressed in to the walls on both sides of the alley.

“I could blow an opening in that wall if you like, sir,” said Raimi, twirling his shoulder launcher like an oversized majorette’s baton.

“Like hell,” said Private Titus Enfield. He was over by the target structure and struck it a couple of times with the palm of his hand. “These walls must be five metres of hard alloy. We’re going to need some big boy explosives to get through them.” He pointed over his shoulder at the pack he was carrying. “Like these.”

A throbbing note coming from somewhere above made Vance spin around.

“Shuttle – get out of sight!” he yelled, without knowing which of the nearby walls would offer any sort of cover.

He stared upwards into the darkness of the planet’s night, trying to pinpoint the direction of the sound. The propulsion note reflected from the building walls, making it impossible to determine the direction of the shuttle’s approach.

“We’re running out of time,” said Vance. He turned to where Oblex#40 was floating on its gravity drive, not more than a metre from the target building. “Instruct that thing to search for an interface,” he said.

“I can’t see a door, sir,” Gantry protested. It didn’t stop him carrying out the order. “Instruction sent.”

“There’s the shuttle!” said Private Kari Banks, pointing into the sky.

Vance looked up in time to see a grey shape pass across the alley at a velocity which indicated it was either in no hurry or it was preparing to land. He estimated it at eighty metres in length, which meant its passenger bay could hold far more Kilvar soldiers than he was comfortable facing.

“Shit,” he said, waiting anxiously to see if it would come back with its chain guns spinning. “We don’t have long before this place is crawling with dead-faces.”

“Just give the order and I’ll put a rocket into their hull, sir,” said Raimi, even though the Kilvar shuttle was no longer in sight. “I reckon Ipanvir might score a lucky hit as well, if you give him a chance.”

“Hold,” said Vance. The shuttle hadn’t reappeared over the alley and that meant it was heading in to land. “Lieutenant Gantry, has that core found anything?”

“Yes, sir. It’s interfaced. I’ve instructed it to break the security.”

Vance looked along half-metre gap between AnRak-1 and the alley wall to where his platoon’s shuttle was parked. Lieutenant Becerra had told him that this was the last intact comms hub on Virix and – in theory – that meant the Kilvar wouldn’t risk an orbital strike in case they hit something they’d later regret.

At that moment, Vance was given the perfect example of why it was foolish to second guess the intentions of the Kilvar. A streak of movement made him hit the ground instinctively, just as a plasma missile detonated. Stark light filled the alleyway and the heat came with it, channelled between AnRak-1 and the wall. The temperature readout on Vance’s HUD peaked twenty degrees above his combat suit’s operational maximum and then dropped rapidly.

He raised his head. Not much was left of the shuttle, other than a white-hot mess of splayed alloys that wouldn’t be taking Vance and his platoon back into orbit any time soon.

“We’ve got second Kilvar shuttle incoming!” yelled Drawl.

The enemy vessel descended through the smoke which billowed from the ruined alliance shuttle. Vance squinted towards this unwelcome arrival, unsure if it was indeed a second transport, or the first one come hunting for him and his platoon. He noted that the Kilvar shuttle was flank-on to the alley and one of its doors was open, as if the enemy planned to simply hurl themselves to the ground in the way that Vance had seen before.

Beyond the door was only darkness, though Vance fancied he saw movement.

“Ipanvir!”

“On it.”

Private Raimi was good with a shoulder launcher, there was no doubt about it. But whenever Vance wanted – needed – a shot to be absolutely perfect, Ipanvir was the soldier for the job.

Vance ducked low, allowing Ipanvir to aim the launcher over his head.

“Left shoulder shot,” said the Daklan. “Watch and learn, Raimi.”

Launcher coils whined softly and the rocket burst from the tube with a muffled thump. The projectile streaked inch-perfect between AnRak-1 and the wall, and entered the shuttle’s open doorway. A burst of plasma flashed within the transport’s bay, incinerating the enemy troops. Flames jetted through the open doorway and the shuttle’s hull no longer appeared perfectly straight.

“Not too bad, I suppose,” Steigers remarked grudgingly, as if Ipanvir had just knocked a tin can off a fence at five paces with a Rodan shotgun.

“Thank you,” said Ipanvir, lowering the tube and peering towards the enemy shuttle.

The vessel was in trouble and its engines coughed in a manner which Vance guessed indicated they’d soon fail.

“We need to get inside this building,” he growled, turning his attention once more to the sky, and listening for the sound of engines.

The oblex cores never failed to impress. A few seconds after it began its assault on the comms hub security, Oblex#40 reported a successful breach, and an ingeniously hidden door – two metres wide and three high - slid open.

Vance took one look at the doorway. “I guess we’re leaving AnRak-1 behind.”

He peered deeper into the building. The outer door led through several metres of wall and into an unlit airlock space. Beyond that was another door, also open. Vance smiled inwardly that the programmers of the oblex core had been clever enough to build in an override routine to save him having to wait for the airlock to cycle. Maybe one day, he’d be able to buy them all a drink and tell them he appreciated what they’d done.

One day.

“Inside,” Vance ordered, the moment he’d reassured himself that nothing hostile was waiting on the other side of the airlock. A faint green light deeper in the building suggested that the power was not entirely cut.

The soldiers didn’t need encouragement and they dashed through the opening. Vance followed, walking backwards so he could watch and listen for additional shuttles.

“Come on, sir,” said Carrington.

Vance was less than five paces from the doorway when a shape dropped from the sky. It landed with a sicking thud right on top of AnRak-1’s sloped front face, before tumbling to the ground. Vance saw the thick arms and legs, and the dry, grey flesh he recognized from past encounters. The Kilvar soldier straightened jerkily to its full nine feet and aimed its bottomless, empty eye socks in his direction.

Raising his gun, Vance shot the creature before it could grin at him. The Rodan slugs ripped out a chunk of flesh but the Kilvar didn’t fall, just like he knew it wouldn’t.

“Close this door,” said Vance, backing into the tunnel. “And lock it up tight.”

“On it, sir,” said Gantry.

The last thing Vance saw as the door slid across his vision, was a rolling sea of metal filling the sky outside. On it came, a seemingly endless construction that existed only to bring death.

“The Cadavax,” Vance said, as the door blocked out the sight. “It’s back.”

“We’ve taken down bigger,” said Drawl.

“In your dreams,” said Carrington.

“There nothing we can do about it,” said Vance, indicating that everyone should head further into the building. “Let’s finish what we came here for. The Cadavax is for Captain Flint to worry about.”

Vance got moving and he tried not to think about the enemy spaceship which was directly overhead, unseen but surely disgorging dozens – perhaps hundreds – of troop-laden transports, whose destination was this facility. He said nothing to the platoon, but Vance couldn’t see a way for them to get out of this alive.

Screw it. Worse has happened before and we made it through. We’ll make it this time as well.

Lies were never harder for Vance to believe than when he was telling them to himself.

Chapter Twelve

The room beyond the airlock was eight metres square, with a high ceiling. Four one-metre pillars of a light-grey material came up through the floor near the corners and vanished into the metal plates overhead. Every wall was covered in panels, each of which had hundreds of switches and buttons. Many of these buttons were lit in green, explaining the light Vance had seen earlier.

“Should I plant a charge on that entrance door, sir?” asked Enfield. “I can burn it shut so that nobody can come in or out. If we need to escape that way, I can blow it open again later.”

Vance was torn. A building like this surely had more than one entrance and he wasn’t about to go hunting for the others in order to seal them too. And even if there was only one way in, the Kilvar would certainly have the means to create a precision hole in one of the walls.

“It was a good idea, but one for another time, soldier.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Want me to start pushing some of these buttons, sir?” asked Raimi, peering at one of the panels like he was a professor of advanced comms technology development. He extended a single finger and made a couple of stabbing motions, though he didn’t touch anything.

“Leave it for the moment,” said Vance. He sniffed, noticing a staleness in the air. It reminded him a little of the Lavorix, though not so cloying. “Sergeant Charnos, how’s our signal to the Hades?”

Charnos was carrying a booster pack that amplified his suit comms unit. “The annihilator is no longer visible on our comms network.”

“Damnit,” said Vance. “We had visibility before we entered this building.”

“Yes,” said the Daklan. “It is not unexpected that the walls of a hub would be shielded against comms leaks.”

“We’ll have to tap into the local hardware as soon as we can,” said Vance.

“That will require the brute force of Oblex#40,” said Charnos. He grinned. “But you know this already.”

Vance nodded. Loss of comms seemed to be a feature of almost every mission. “Is there anywhere we can plug in this oblex core and see what it finds?”

“I already instructed it to hunt for an interface, sir,” said Gantry. “It got about fifty hits, but they were all narrow pipes, which makes me think they’re used for data transfer between secondary pieces of kit. Like these wall panels.”

“So we’re not in the right place?”

“Probably not, sir.”

Vance sized up the three exit doors, aware that he couldn’t delay. The Kilvar soldier he’d shot in the face wasn’t carrying anything that would break the building security, but he was sure the enemy would be eager to rectify that situation.

“This building isn’t massive, sir,” said Gantry. “If all the rooms on this level are the same size as this one, I reckon there’s only space for nine in total and we’re in the middle of the row closest to the south wall.”

“If there was a high-throughput data port nearby, the oblex core would have found it,” said Vance. “Even if it was in one of those other rooms.”

“Yes, sir,” said Gantry. “Well, maybe not if there’s an interface on the far side of the building. That might be too far to locate. Still, the place we’re looking for likely isn’t on this level.”

Vance looked upwards and his suit computer helpfully informed him that the ceiling was twenty-five metres above. “Given that this building is two hundred metres tall, there isn’t space for more than seven levels of this height.”

“Time to find an airlift,” said Tagra.

“I feel the need to ask, sir,” said Drawl. “Do you think this place was automated, or are we likely to run into a bunch of angry Balon?”

“If they lived through the death sphere, I imagine those surviving Balon will be pretty pissed,” Vance confirmed. “In the interests of inter-species friendship and cooperation, please feel free to shoot any of the local aliens you might encounter.”

“What if they attempt to engage in dialogue, sir?”

“We’re on a tight schedule, soldier,” said Vance. “Shoot them anyway, and I’ll fill in the paperwork later.”

“Yes, sir.”

Vance strode across the room, to the exit in the wall opposite. He guessed this one would lead to the central room on this level and from there, the oblex core would have the best chance of detecting any interface ports that were currently at the extremes of its range.

He tapped the barrel of his shotgun against the surface of the door. It sounded utterly solid. “Do we need to hack each one?” he asked.

“No, sir,” said Gantry. “The core took care of the door security in the whole building. Just send Oblex#40 an instruction and it’ll open whatever you want.”

“This one,” said Vance, pointing, in case anyone hadn’t already guessed which way he wanted to go. He gave the platoon a couple of seconds to get into position, while he crouched adjacent to the door. “Sending the command.”

The door opened with a near-silent whoosh. No gunshots followed.

“Another passage,” said Vance, taking a quick look around. “The second door is also open.”

Years of combat training took over and Vance sprinted into the passage, with his gun ready. Drawl followed, as did Londivir.

The next room was different – it was larger than the previous one and much of its central floorspace was occupied by a metal-walled shaft. A dark shape on the floor to the left of the doorway came into Vance’s visibility arc and he slowed. His finger itched to pull the trigger on his gun, but he held back.

Pausing briefly at the entrance, with Drawl and Londivir at his shoulder, Vance watched for a moment. The shape wasn’t moving.

“Got a dead one,” he said, advancing into the room. “Corporal Hendrix, come and take a look.”

The creature on the floor wasn’t Kilvar, and that made Vance pretty sure it was a Balon lying at his feet.

“This would have been a difficult opponent,” said Londivir.

Vance wasn’t about to argue. The Balon had fallen on its back and he guessed it would have been about seven feet tall when it was standing. It was broad across the shoulders, with two massive arms and equally thick legs. The creature’s hands ended in short fingers, and Vance guessed that its clenched fists would resemble something akin to forty-pound sledgehammers.

Aside from it being bipedal, the alien was clad in what Vance initially thought to be black combat armour, but when he poked it with his gun, he changed his mind.

“A natural carapace,” he said. “Jointed in the places you’d expect.”

“It’s not the best-looking of fellas, is it?” asked Drawl.

Again, Vance couldn’t disagree with the assessment. The Balon had six humanlike eyes, which were milky, though he didn’t know if that was through death or just the alien’s natural appearance. Vance saw no sign of a nose and its mouth was filled with two-inch incisors.

“Private Drawl wishes to be the first human to embrace one of these Balon,” Londivir announced. He gave Drawl an encouraging, Daklan-sized shove, almost sending the man face-first into the dead alien.

“Cut it out!” said Drawl, scrambling away.

“Love at first sight,” rumbled Londivir.

“That’s enough,” said Vance irritably. The Daklan had a sense of humour, but they didn’t always show it at the most appropriate time. “We’ve got Kilvar soldiers knocking on the door – we don’t have time for screwing around.”

Corporal Hendrix entered the room, unslung her cloth-wrapped medical box and dropped into a crouch near the Balon. She extracted a bunch of wires and started attaching them the alien’s neck and chest.

“It’s dead,” she said after a moment.

“I could have told you that,” said Drawl. He gave the Balon a nudge with his foot. The body didn’t move at all. “It’s heavy.”

Vance didn’t like the look of the creature and kept his shotgun aimed at its head. Just in case the med-box was wrong. “Did the death sphere do this, or something else?”

“I don’t know,” said Hendrix. “These medical boxes are built to diagnose and treat humans and Daklan.” She prodded the alien in its chest. “I don’t need to tell you this is neither.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Vance with a shrug. “This looks like a mean son-of-a-bitch and I’m glad it’s dead on the floor instead of throwing punches.”

He let his gaze linger for a moment longer. The Balon looked far more powerful than a Daklan and Vance could already imagine why this species had halted the Kilvar advance in this part of the universe.

“Leave it,” he said. “We’ve got a mission to complete.” Vance’s eyes fell on Sergeant Charnos in the doorway. “Any contact with the Hades?”

“No, Captain Vance.”

“Just thought I’d ask.”

Vance checked out the room. The walls of this one were twelve metres long, meaning that Gantry’s earlier guess about the internal layout of the building was incorrect. At five metres square, the central shaft bore an uncanny resemblance to an airlift, and Vance headed around to locate either a door or an activation panel.

“I instructed Oblex#40 to run another scan for a wide-throughput data port, sir,” said Gantry. “It found nothing, but it did form a link to the control hardware for this.” He thumped the side of his clenched fist against the shaft wall.

“It’s definitely a lift?” said Vance.

“Yes, sir.”

By now, Vance had completed his circuit, having found no manual controls, no more aliens and nothing else of interest. He ordered his squads into positions where they could watch every side of the lift shaft. When that was done, he motioned in Gantry’s direction.

“Open the door, Lieutenant.”

Gantry nodded. “Command sent.”

The door opened on one of the visible sides of the lift shaft. Vance trained his gun into the car, but saw that it was empty.

“Clear,” Private Raven confirmed.

Vance stepped closer and looked inside the car. It was an unremarkable cube, with no obvious means of activation.

“What does Oblex#40 tell you about the destinations of this airlift, Lieutenant Gantry?” he asked.

“Checking…there’s only one stop, sir. And it’s down.”

“I can’t decide if that’s good news or bad news,” said Vance. It was probably neither. “I guess that means we’re going underground.”

“Sir, Oblex#40 has reported a breach on the outer door security,” said Gantry. “I ordered the door to close again and then I set up a routine to do the same thing every time the security is broken.”

Gantry had shown an interest in the workings of the oblex cores and Vance had made sure the man received some extra training during their time on the Ancidium. It looked as if that training was paying off. “Good work, Lieutenant.” He grimaced. “But damn I wasn’t expecting the enemy to break in so fast – at least not without missiles or explosives.”

“I don’t know how long the method I’ve implemented will work, sir. I doubt it’ll take the Kilvar long to figure something out.”

“We don’t have many options,” said Vance. “The lift is big enough for everyone. We’ll get inside and find out what’s at the bottom.”

The platoon followed the oblex core into the lift car. Ice crystals formed on the walls before Gantry even had the door closed. Drawl began humming a bland take on lift music and someone else told him to shut up.

The lift car accelerated with an accompanying whine and a faint vibration.

“Going down,” said Gantry. “The outer door security was breached again, sir, and the Kilvar have purged the software. I can’t lock them out this time.”

“The quicker they come, the quicker we’ll put them out of their misery,” said Steigers, without much in the way of conviction.

Vance was worried, though he didn’t admit it. The Kilvar were much more efficient at this than he’d imagined, and he cursed himself for underestimating his enemy. It wouldn’t take them long to find the lift and down they’d come.

Not one of the soldiers in Vance’s platoon was lacking in intelligence, though they occasionally pretended otherwise. It was Steigers who voiced what many of them were likely thinking.

“We might have to blow this lift,” he said.

“There’s no way we’re getting topside again,” said Raven. “That place will be crawling with those assholes.”

“I love a good suicide mission,” said Drawl. “Reminds me I’m alive.”

“Maybe we could poison Drawl or something,” said Carrington. “Then we send him up in the lift and when those Kilvar suck out his life energy, they’ll all be poisoned as well. After that, we steal a shuttle, fool the Cadavax into thinking we’re friendly, dock and then overthrow the enemy bridge.”

“The perfect plan,” said Raimi, deadpan. “What could possibly go wrong?”

“Quiet,” said Vance. “The lift is slowing.”

All trace of humour disappeared at once and the soldiers readied themselves. The whine of the lift died away and the deceleration stopped. Before the doors opened, Vance wondered briefly how far underground this journey had taken them. He guessed it didn’t matter one way or the other. There was going to be no return from this.

The lift doors opened and immediately, Vance felt a denseness in the air. A deep, pounding vibration rolled through his body, on and off, like the waves of an ocean.

“Shit, man, what’s that?” asked Steigers.

“Move!” Vance shouted, ignoring the question. “Out!”

The soldiers spilled from the lift. Vance had positioned himself close to the exit and he was one of the first into the passage outside. A couple of Balon lay unmoving on the floor and he jumped awkwardly to avoid tripping over them. His movements felt sluggish, as if the pressure in the air was slowing him down.

Twenty metres ahead, the corridor emerged into a much larger space, though Vance didn’t have full visibility yet. He dashed to the opening and halted, waving the other members of his platoon to a stop.

This new room was almost two hundred metres along each wall, and shaped like a cube. It was ice-cold and lit in the sickly green of disease and a hazy miasma added a degree of indistinctness to everything, near and far. Vance’s eyes darted around as he tried to make sense of what he and his platoon had found.

In the centre of the floor, on a circular raised dais, he saw what was obviously a cage. Thick black bars, made from an unknown material, formed a thirty-metre cube. A barred door, hardly more than two metres tall, was fitted to the cage at floor level. This door had no handle and no obvious way for it to be opened.

Behind the bars, an undulating darkness seethed. Vance sensed hatred and longing, along with a dozen other emotions too alien for him to put names to.

“Galtivon,” he said, at once knowing what was trapped in the cage. “We hit the jackpot.”

“Or the jackpot hit us,” said Raven.

Drawing his eyes from the cage, Vance finished his visual sweep of the room. He saw fallen Balon – dozens of them – along with great banks of sophisticated consoles, which he thought might be dedicated to comms. A total of twenty black pillars, each five metres in diameter and spaced evenly around the walls, went from floor to ceiling. Smaller consoles were arrayed around them, their Balon crews out of action.

No other exits were apparent. Without something totally unforeseen happening, this was the end of the road.

“What’s that?” asked Steigers, pointing upwards.

“I don’t know,” said Vance.

A circle of metal, as dark as everything else, floated without apparent support fifty metres above the cage. Vance noticed it appeared to have exactly the same diameter as the dais, though he had idea if that was significant.

“What plan, Captain Vance?” asked Lieutenant Tagra.

“I’m working on it,” said Vance. “Lieutenant Gantry, is there any way to disable the lift and guarantee it stays that way?”

“I wouldn’t bet money on it, sir.”

Vance swore and made his decision. “Private Enfield, blow the lift,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” said Enfield at once.

“And try doing a good job for once,” said Steigers.

“Screw you,” said Enfield. He broke away from the passage wall and hared it back to the lift.

“The rest of you, into squads and check out this kit,” said Vance. “Sergeant Charnos – your priority is to make contact with the Hades.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Lieutenant Gantry – use that oblex core to break the comms security if needed.”

“Yes, sir.”

“A shame the Ancidium didn’t build AnRak-1 a little smaller,” said Carrington, without much bitterness. Shit happened and the soldiers had learned to accept it.

“Yeah, a real shame,” Vance agreed. “Now get your ass in gear, Private.”

Carrington dashed after her squad, while Vance picked a different direction. He walked straight over to the cage, feeling the vibration increase steadily as he approached.

The dais was two metres high, but with sloped sides that allowed Vance to climb to the top. He stopped in front of the cage. It dwarfed him, but he didn’t feel diminished. The darkness beyond the bars gathered in front of Vance and the vibration intensified.

“Death magic,” spat Vance. “You piece of shit.”

He had no idea why he’d needed this confrontation, but Vance felt better for it. The Kilvar was trapped in its cage and he wondered if his time in the chamber would give him the strength to survive should the creature ever escape.

“The charges are set, sir,” said Enfield on the platoon comms.

“What are you waiting for?”

“An order to detonate, sir.”

“Blow the damn lift, Private,” sighed Vance.

The sound of a muffled explosion came from the entrance corridor and Vance hoped the destruction of the lift would stall the Kilvar long enough for him and his platoon to make contact with the Hades. Aware that the enemy soldiers could fall long distances without killing themselves, he set five soldiers – including Private Rendos with his MG-12 repeater – to watch the shaft.

The target had been located, but how it could be eliminated, that was an entirely different question.

Vance hurried across to find out if Sergeant Charnos had anything to report.

Chapter Thirteen

The Hades’ superstressed engines were a background, quiet hum as the annihilator coasted through the vacuum at twelve thousand kilometres per second.

Captain William Flint ran his eyes over the recharge timers. The three SRT modules were ready and a switchover into phase shift was available any time. All the other systems were green, except for the fourth Terrus gun, the remains of which they’d left behind on Virix. No additional red lights had appeared since the housing snapped free, and everything was stable.

The surprise attack on the Cadavax had evidently generated confusion among the Kilvar – enough that they hadn’t managed to follow the Hades on its last mode 3 jump – but now the planet was so far behind that Flint was effectively blind to what was happening in the conflict between the Balon and the Kilvar.

“Captain Vance is still off-comms, sir,” said Becerra.

Flint nodded. “Keep trying,” he said.

His mind turned, like it always did, seeking a way to make things better – a way to influence events so the scales tipped in his favour, rather than his enemy’s.

“It wouldn’t have taken Captain Vance long to sweep that target building,” he mused.

“Not unless he ran into some heavy resistance, sir,” said Larson. “And since we shot down the Kilvar transports, the only form of resistance would have been the base security or the Balon.”

“Damnit,” said Flint. “I’m trying to pin down the impossible – to guess how long Captain Vance will take to complete his mission.”

“Nothing good will come from what you’re doing, sir,” said Larson.

“I know it,” said Flint. “We have to wait for the ground troops to establish a comms link. Then we can act.” He tapped his knuckles a few times on the edge of his seat. “Coping is hard enough when my warship is the target and damn if it’s not just as hard when it isn’t.”

Larson laughed and it was a warming sound. “I know exactly what you mean.” Her laughter faded. “Captain Vance can look after himself. He and that bunch of rogues he calls a platoon. There’s no one in the alliance has a better chance of success.”

“I reckon what’s happening at Virix is a conflict we’re better off keeping our noses out of,” said Fredericks. “So for once, I’m happy to let everyone else slug it out while we sit pretty out here, flying deeper into the wild blue yonder.”

“Any improvement on the sensor feeds?” asked Flint. He could already see there was no improvement on the screen in front of him, but he asked anyway.

“We have no additional enhancements to report, sir,” said Burner. “From here, we can identify the surface markings, and the Cadavax is still stationary over the hub.”

“I never thought I’d live to see the day when a single spaceship was identifiable across half a solar system,” said Eastwood.

“Still tempted to unload the remaining Terrus cannons, sir?” asked Larson innocently.

“Those and the lightspeed missiles,” said Flint. He grimaced and called up the targeting report from the battle computer. “The calibration of one Terrus barrel is way out, and while the others are all within their design parameters, the guns were never expected to be accurate across such distances. At best we’ll land two shots per salvo, and with a twenty-second reload interval we aren’t realistically getting off more than one salvo.”

“And since five direct hits weren’t enough, two isn’t going to cut it,” said Maddox.

“We hurt those bastards,” said Fredericks. “They must have shit themselves when those EX-T projectiles smashed into their hull. It’s possible we did some real damage.”

“The speed of the Cadavax’s return suggests otherwise, Lieutenant,” said Larson.

“Yeah, maybe,” Fredericks conceded. “But it might also tell us how important the contents of that Balon comms hub are to the Kilvar. What if they’re using the Cadavax as a shield, because they’re scared we’ll blow the hub to pieces?”

“That’s a bit of a stretch,” said Flint. He thought about it for a moment. “Or maybe not so much of a stretch. If that hub is the one lead the Kilvar have to find Galtivon, perhaps they’d risk a hell of a lot to keep it intact.” He pursed his lips, trying to imagine a way to take advantage.

“The lightspeed missiles we’re carrying could bypass the Cadavax’s energy shield,” said Maddox. “We have four launchers and sixteen missiles in total.”

“The lightspeed missiles pack a punch, but against the Cadavax?” Flint shook his head. “Our entire arsenal of warheads wouldn’t be nearly enough.”

“Which leaves the decay pulse,” said Larson.

“It may come to that, Commander,” said Flint. In truth, he was fearful of what the weapon might do. If it fired like it was meant to, it had the potential to wipe out many enemy warships in a single discharge. Whether it would be enough to deplete the Cadavax’s shield, he wasn’t so sure.

Equally, he didn’t know what effect it would have on the planet itself. Or the Hades. He’d read the spec sheets and the power draw was astronomical. Maybe those power requirements would be enough to deplete the annihilator’s exium units, thereby denying Flint access to much of the other weaponry and defences.

Everything hinged on Captain Vance and his making comms contact. The ground station wouldn’t just have voice capabilities – it would certainly have access to whatever sensors remained operational on Virix, as well as its own basic sensor arrays. It was all well and good talking about the Hades’ impressive array of armaments, but without intel from the ground, Flint couldn’t risk putting them to use.

Ten minutes went by and he became progressively more on edge. Flint couldn’t decide if his agitation was a result of the inaction or because his instinct had picked up on something. He pictured the engagement between the Kilvar and the Balon. While the former were definitely in the ascendancy, a large-scale battle like the one at Virix was always destined to become scrappy as the opponents chased each other through increasingly desperate lightspeed transits, hunting for openings.

Whichever way Flint framed it, time was running out. Once the Balon were defeated, the Kilvar would likely be left with hundreds of vessels to dispatch on a search for the Hades. Once that happened, there’d be no luxury of sitting at a distance, watching and planning.

“I have Captain Vance on the comms, sir!” said Becerra.

Flint sat bolt upright. “Put him on the open channel.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Captain Vance, what news?” asked Flint.

“We found Galtivon, sir. The Balon put it in a thirty-metre cage and it’s in a room with us below the comms hub.” Vance gave a gruff, humourless laugh. “Here’s the bad news – AnRak-1 was too big to fit inside the target building and we had to abandon it on the surface.”

Flint cursed. “Ever feel like you’re part of a cosmic game designed to make everything as difficult as possible?”

“All the time, sir.”

“Maybe I should just be glad we found Galtivon without having to follow a trail leading across a hundred different planets,” said Flint. “I assume you ruled out the existence of another entrance to that place you’re in?”

“Yes, sir. There’s only one way in and one way out.”

“Is there anything where you’re located that might destroy the creature?” asked Flint. The loss of AnRak-1 was a real blow, though he wasn’t even sure the gun – designed to combat the Kilvar Raklivian – would be effective against Galtivon. One thing was certain – AnRak-1 would have had a greater chance of success than a few shots from a gauss rifle. “Maybe the Balon were working on something.”

“There’s nothing down here that looks like a weapon, sir, though there’s some other crap we’re still trying to figure out. Aside from that, there’s a bunch of dead Balon, but if their appearances are anything to go by, they weren’t the friendly type. I doubt they’d have talked even if they were alive.”

“It’s probably for the best that you don’t have to deal with them,” said Flint.

“That’s what I thought, sir.” Vance grunted. “Though I’d prefer a few more options.”

“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me I’ve sent you up the creek.”

“We’re stuck, sir,” said Vance. “The Kilvar blew up our shuttle and I assume you know the Cadavax returned. It’s not just the shuttle - my platoon and I are trapped here. We had to blow the lift to stop the Kilvar following us. I’m expecting those assholes to start dropping down the shaft any minute now.”

“How deep below the ground is that room, Captain Vance?” asked Flint.

“Approximately ten klicks, sir. While we’d appreciate it if you wiped out whatever was topside, the Kilvar will only send twice as many to replace them.”

“Don’t you start thinking this is game over,” said Flint.

“The game won’t end until those bastards suck the life from my body, sir,” growled Vance. He made an angry sound. “But this is bigger than me and it’s bigger than my platoon. I’m sure the Hades is fitted with a weapon that could strike ten klicks below ground. If that’s what it takes to put the Kilvar back two hundred years, then it’s a price all of us down here are willing to pay.”

“I don’t want it coming to that,” said Flint.

“None of us do, sir.” Vance didn’t sound defeated. Not even close. “You have to do what’s right.”

“I don’t have to do anything yet, Captain Vance,” said Flint. “You’ve got comms, do you also have sensors?”

“Yes, sir. Most of the Balon network is offline, but the hub sensors are working just fine and a few of the planet’s low-altitude satellites are still intact.”

“I’d like access to those feeds,” said Flint. He turned and gestured towards Garrett. She nodded in understanding. “Lieutenant Garrett will speak to Sergeant Charnos – I’m sure they can figure something out.”

“Yes, sir. What next?”

“I need to think on it. Give me a few minutes.” Flint paused for a moment. “What’s your feeling about the Balon hardware down there, Captain Vance? Is there anything which might be useful?”

“Like I said, we’ve been poking around, sir. So far nothing’s turned up, but we’ll keep at it.”

“Good luck. I’ll contact you shortly.”

Flint gestured towards Becerra and she closed the channel. His mind raced as it sifted through the new information. With Galtivon here on Virix, the Kilvar were on the brink of a rescue. That was an outcome he couldn’t countenance. Equally, he couldn’t countenance giving an order that would result in the deaths of Captain Vance and everyone with him.

Still, he had to consider what he might do if push unavoidably came to shove.

“Ten klicks of stone will require a lot of firepower to break through,” said Flint.

“Plasma missiles would do it if we fired enough of them, sir,” said Larson. “Except those aren’t going to destroy Galtivon. But they’ll definitely kill Captain Vance and everyone with him.”

“I know,” said Flint. “Incinerating our own soldiers isn’t in my plans. I’m just thinking, that’s all.”

“I reckon a few Terrus-VI strikes would achieve the same outcome as if we’d fired missiles, sir,” said Eastwood. “With the additional chance the EX-T projectiles will turn Galtivon into paste.”

“Shame the Cadavax and all those other warships won’t sit idly by while we rescue our soldiers and unload our weaponry into the surface,” said Garrett. “Anyway, sir, we’re now linked into the Virix sensors. I’m going through the feeds to see what’s happening down there.”

“Keep me informed,” said Flint. He grimaced as he pondered the issues. Having Captain Vance trapped in the comms hub was a kick in the teeth. Had it been otherwise, Flint might have tested the decay pulse on Virix to see what came of it.

Suddenly, it came crashing home to him exactly what was riding on this. Here was a chance - a tangible chance, within grasp – to inflict some real harm on the Kilvar. And yet, he couldn’t do it. His loyalty – damnit, his humanity – wouldn’t permit him to murder the soldiers beneath the facility.

Or perhaps, Flint thought, he had no choice, and this was the ultimate test of his duty.

Damnit, this is not a test. This is a mockery of everything I’ve achieved. Everything Captain Vance has achieved.

In that moment, Flint was struck by the greatest despair. He tipped his head back and wished for anything but this.

Chapter Fourteen

Commander Larson did not allow Flint to sink into the murky waters of his own anguish.

“You can’t do this, sir,” she said, as close to fury as he could remember. “Not here, not now.” He felt her eyes boring into him. “Not ever.”

The sharpness of her voice cut deep and Flint turned to face her. Larson’s words were angry, but he saw other emotions in her face and it was the disappointment which hurt the most.

“Hell no,” he said. The words sounded weak and he tried again. “We’ve got this,” he said, his voice hardening. It shouldn’t have surprised Flint, given everything he’d been through, but the conviction was there. “I promise we’ve got this,” he growled.

Larson’s gaze didn’t waver, didn’t fall. “You can’t—”

“Whatever it takes, we’ve got this,” Flint repeated.

He didn’t say if this promise meant he’d carbonize Vance and the soldiers if that’s what was necessary. In truth, he didn’t know. All Flint could be sure about was that the war had brought him to this and he’d be the one who’d carry the burden of whatever came from it.

Larson shook her head slightly. She always seemed to read him like a book. “This is on us, sir. All of us.”

And that was it done. The fractures in Flint’s sanity healed and the man that was left was stronger than before.

“Screw these alien assholes,” said Garrett. “Let’s give them another taste of exium and see if they like it.”

“Not yet, Lieutenant,” said Flint. He felt a cold fury of his own, as if he’d sucked it clean out of Larson. There’d be a time to act, and it would surely come soon. “What’s on those Balon sensor feeds?”

“Warships and cities, sir,” said Garrett. “The comms hub sensors have a good view of the Cadavax’s underside, the hub compound, and not much else. The compound is…crowded.”

“Can those sensors show us now much damage we inflicted on the enemy ship?”

“No, sir, the Terrus impacts are not visible to the ground sensors.”

“Let me have a look at the compound.”

Garret’s description of crowded was an understatement. The Kilvar had landed dozens of shuttles on both sides of the perimeter walls. When they’d run out of open ground within the walls, they’d set down on roofs, and one smaller shuttle had even landed on top of a larger vessel. What space was left in the compound was filled with nine-foot Kilvar shock troops. Each and every one faced the same direction – that being the building under which Vance had taken refuge.

“They’re waiting their turn to throw themselves down the lift shaft,” said Eastwood in horror. “What the hell are these things?”

“They’re ten times worse than the Lavorix, Ken. I can tell you that for nothing,” said Burner.

“I’ve seen enough of that feed for the moment,” said Flint. “Show me one of the cities.”

“Here you go, sir,” said Garrett. “This one’s ninety klicks directly south of the comms hub. There’s not much of it left.”

The Balon satellite was directly over the remains of a city and its feed quality was near-perfect. Missiles, particle beams and falling wreckage had combined to turn the majority of the surface structures into a nightmare of twisted scrap and flames. Flint wasn’t sure what he’d hoped to gain by this, but nevertheless he stared for long moments.

“I want a closer zoom,” he said. An undulating movement on the feed had caught Flint’s eye and he wasn’t sure what it was.

“Here you go, sir.”

“Shit, would you look at that,” said Fredericks, aghast.

The centre of the zoomed feed was focused on a part of the city where a few of the buildings were still partially standing. Broad avenues ran between the structures and Flint saw many thousands of Kilvar shock troops, all running north. Whatever they were chasing, it wasn’t visible on the feed.

“What the hell are they up to?” asked Flint. Something about the sight made him feel sick to his stomach.

“There are more of them east and west, sir,” said Garrett. “They’re all heading north.”

Flint made the connection. “The comms hub,” he said. “Everything on Virix was dead until Captain Vance arrived, and now these assholes have got the scent of life. Get me a link to the ground troops.”

“Yes, sir,” said Becerra. “Here’s Captain Vance.”

“We’re under pressure, sir,” said Vance without preamble. “Kilvar soldiers started dropping down the lift shaft the moment I left the comms with you earlier. We’re holding them off, but they soak a lot of bullets. Sooner or later we’re going to run out of ammunition or be overrun.”

The sound of background gunfire rose to the fore and then Vance spoke again. “Private Drawl had the tremendous idea of using the oblex core to fly us up the lift shaft. It should be able to carry four at a time, but it can’t happen while the enemy are topside. Anyway, that would leave Galtivon for the Kilvar.”

“I assume you’re aware of how many enemy soldiers are topside, Captain Vance?”

“Yes, sir. A shit-ton and a crapload rolled into one.”

“And every Kilvar on Virix is hotfooting it in your direction,” said Flint. The makings of a plan slotted into his mind. It wasn’t complete, but he hoped that talking about it would drop some of the missing pieces into place. “But I think we might be able to help you out.”

“I’m all ears, sir.”

“I’m planning to bring the Hades to Virix by mode 3, targeting the blind side from the comms hub. After that, we’ll circle the planet and kill everything on the surface above you and take out any shuttles that are on route. We’ll also hit the Cadavax with our Terrus-VI guns. That should draw the enemy mothership away and give you some breathing room.”

“That might buy us the time we need to fly up the lift shaft, sir,” said Vance. “But in order for us to escape the planet, you’d need to send down a shuttle. And even if it arrived with another AnRak gun in its hold, the turret wouldn’t fit down this lift shaft. If the topside building was completely levelled and the shaft exposed, we could probably fire the gun directly into the room below and hope—” Vance cursed. “I can’t see it working, sir.”

Neither could Flint, now that he’d talked it through. However, possibilities were starting to emerge, when only a few minutes ago all had seemed lost. He swore inwardly – perhaps there was a way, if only he could see what it was.

Something had been bothering Flint since the moment he’d learned his enemy was beneath the comms hub and it jumped into his head. “Captain Vance, you told me the prison cage is thirty metres. That’s a big cage.”

“Yes, sir, it is.” Vance didn’t speak for a moment. “You’re wondering how the Balon transported the cage and all the other apparatus ten klicks below ground.”

“That’s exactly what I’m wondering.”

“We’ve searched every inch of this place, sir. There’re no other doors.” Vance blew out between his teeth. “I don’t even think some of this kit could have been brought here in pieces and built in situ. So just because we haven’t found the door doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”

“There has to be a way in for an AnRak gun and a way out for you and your platoon,” said Flint.

“I’m sure you’re right, sir, but I don’t know how long it’ll take to find,” said Vance.

Flint drummed his fingers for a moment “Do you require immediate assistance?” he asked.

If there was a second entrance to the underground facility and it took time to locate, then he’d be required to make one attack run to clear the enemy surface troops and a second after a way in for the AnRak gun was found. Just one attack was risky as hell given the presence of the Cadavax and the Kilvar Seekings. To perform a second shortly after would push the danger to a whole new level. He explained as much to Vance.

“We’re burning through our ammunition fast, sir,” said Vance. “Another ten minutes and we’ll run dry. The MG-12s won’t last much more than half that and they’re doing most of the killing.”

“We’ll give you the support you need, Captain Vance,” said Flint, without giving the matter further consideration. “I don’t have time to organize an ammo drop – even if you had a way to pick up the cargo.”

“If you kill those enemy troops, we might not need the ammunition, sir.”

“I’ll let you get back to your platoon,” said Flint. “Four minutes and we’ll have the topside area cleared.”

“Yes, sir. I look forward to hearing the blasts.”

Vance exited the comms channel, leaving Flint with a sense of excitement tinged with the fear of danger.

“You all heard that,” he said, speaking loudly enough for his voice to carry across the bridge. “Does anyone have questions?”

“We’re about to mode 3 to the blind side of Virix, fly around half of the planet and then turn thousands of Kilvar into ash,” said Burner. “After that, we’ll escape into a second mode 3, probably with the biggest, baddest Kilvar warship in this entire engagement hot on our heels.”

“Yes,” said Flint. “If we’re lucky, the Cadavax will return to the comms hub like it did before.”

“Why are we flying blind side of the planet first?” asked Garrett. “Won’t the Kilvar spaceships detect us and send advance warning to the Cadavax?”

“We’ll complete the first SRT in phase shift,” said Flint. “That way, we can make our approach undetected and only exit phase shift when we’re ready to start launching missiles into the Kilvar troops at the comms hub.”

“And we have to assume the Cadavax can detect phase shifted warships,” said Garrett, catching on. “So if we jumped straight to the comms hub, they might destroy us while we’re sensor blind.”

“I’d hope the Hades’ shield would hold out for those few seconds of sensor blindness, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “But I’m not willing to test it if there’s no need.”

“No, sir.”

“Let’s get on with it,” said Maddox. She rubbed her hands together. “Every time I shoot some of these Kilvar assholes, it makes me feel good.”

“Me too,” said Larson.

Privately, Flint got the same satisfaction, but he kept it to himself. Reaching out, he tapped a mode 3 destination onto the Hades’ tactical screen, a third of a turn around the planet from the comms hub and at a hundred-kilometre altitude. He’d have preferred to emerge from lightspeed at a ten-kilometre altitude – or lower – but lightspeed travel wasn’t always pinpoint accurate and he didn’t want to crater his warship.

“We don’t know if the place we’re targeting is busy,” said Flint. “But we’ll have to count ourselves real unlucky if we’re spotted. Activate the phase shift.”

“Phase shift activated,” said Fredericks.

“Activating SRT.”

Flint pressed the button on the controls and the Hades transitioned into lightspeed for a fraction of a split second. It emerged almost stationary and with its sensors offline. Forcing his too-tight grip on the control bars to relax, Flint watched the feeds and listened to the warship’s idling propulsion. He longed to hear those engines howl and the short wait was almost too much to bear.

“Sensors online!” shouted Burner

Various feeds of darkness and the greyness of stone appeared on the bulkhead screens. The tactical populated with dozens of red and orange dots, representing the Kilvar and Balon warships nearby.

Flint didn’t pay them any heed. He oriented himself and requested power from the engines. The howl he’d yearned for didn’t come, only the depthless, droning suction from the superstressed propulsion. The annihilator surged across the planet, ripping through the toxic atmosphere and accelerating in total defiance of its enormous mass.

“Further targets identified,” said Becerra. “Adding them to the tactical. The fighting is more intense than it was last time we had visibility of this area.”

“Don’t quote me, but I think Balon reinforcements arrived at some point recently,” said Garrett. “Their fleet count has gone up since last time. Maybe they returned from the far reaches of Gharal.”

“Maybe,” said Flint. If the Balon stayed in the game for a little while longer, that would be no bad thing.

“Five Kilvar diamond ships have exited lightspeed at a thousand-klick altitude, right over our heads,” said Becerra. “They’re still sensor blind.”

“Don’t go to lightspeed again,” Larson muttered.

Flint gritted his teeth. If the Kilvar had caught wind of the Hades and began jumping through lightspeed to detect the annihilator, there’d be no chance of surprising the Cadavax. The enemy command ship would be ready to unload every weapon it had as soon as the Hades came over the horizon.

“Taking us down,” said Flint.

He brought the Hades lower, to a five-kilometre altitude, and made a slight correction to its heading so that it would cross exactly over the comms hub. The ground beneath was uneven, but with no great peaks to be seen.

“Those five diamond ships have joined the engagement with the Balon, sir,” said Garrett, with obvious relief.

Holding his nerve, Flint reduced altitude again, this time to three thousand metres. At the annihilator’s current velocity, it would be touch-and-go if his reactions would be quick enough to avoid any obstacles, but the low-altitude approach would keep the warship out of the Cadavax’s visibility arc for an extra few seconds.

“Distance to target: six thousand kilometres,” said Becerra. “The Cadavax will have visibility on us in less than five thousand.”

The annihilator’s velocity was such that its energy shield activated in defence against the atmospheric friction. How that worked with the spaceship in phase shift, Flint didn’t know and it wasn’t a good time to ask. The shield reserve gauge began to fall, albeit only slightly, and Flint curtailed the warship’s acceleration in order that it would arrive at the comms hub with its defences at maximum.

“Another city, dead ahead,” said Garrett.

Over the ruins went the Hades, and Flint saw that this place too, was overrun with Kilvar. He couldn’t comprehend the numbers – certainly they had swarmed the city in their hundreds of thousands – and he had no idea why the enemy needed to deploy so many of their troops onto a world which had already been conquered by the death sphere.

Maybe the Balon had a way to keep Galtivon hidden and the only way for the Kilvar to find their master was to search every building.

As he watched, missiles in their dozens cascaded into the streets of the city. Thousands of Kilvar were obliterated in the attack and then a second salvo coming straight after the first wiped out thousands more.

“The Balon aren’t done yet,” said Eastwood.

Flint didn’t know what to say. The situation on Virix was screwed up beyond his imagining and all he wanted was to finish this mission, escape the planet and leave these two species far behind.

No distance is going to be enough.

The range to target tumbled and the anticipation of the coming engagement made Flint’s scalp prickle. This would be space combat in its most barbaric form – a sudden, unavoidable attack that would see thousands killed and an enormous quantity of hardware smashed and broken. Flint didn’t care – he’d visit all this and more onto the Kilvar without hesitation or compunction, if it meant the enemy would be delayed even a moment in their quest for ascendancy.

“Three thousand klicks to target,” said Becerra. “Two thousand and the Cadavax will have sight on us.”

“I’m ready on the weapons,” said Larson. “Anything I see is fair game.”

“Two thousand klicks to target,” said Becerra.

The ground sped by underneath the annihilator in a blur of mottled greys. Flint held his gaze on the sensor feeds, hoping he and his crew could pull this off and leave the Kilvar shaking their fists at the wind.

In reality, success was only going to relieve the pressure on Captain Vance and his platoon. If there was a way to destroy Galtivon and rescue those soldiers, Flint had yet to identify it.

With the Hades on the brink of the engagement, a most unexpected development occurred.

“Sir! Sergeant Charnos is on the comms!” yelled Becerra. “Galtivon and the cage have vanished!”

Such was the shock of the news that Flint didn’t know what to say. He felt as if the rug had been pulled out from under his feet, leaving him mid-air and with only a split second remaining before he crashed painfully to the ground.

The bad stuff kept on coming.

“Sir, all the comms hub sensor feeds have gone offline!” said Garrett.

“Have they been shut down?” asked Flint.

“I don’t know, sir. Shut down or destroyed.”

Flint swore and asked himself what changed landscape he and his crew would find when they arrived at the comms hub. If the Kilvar had noticed that Galtivon was no longer in the hub, they could do whatever the hell they pleased. The crap which Vance and his soldiers had been swimming through was suddenly a whole lot deeper.

It took every ounce of his resolve, but Flint held steady.

Chapter Fifteen

“We should have visibility on the Cadavax at any moment, sir,” said Becerra.

Flint watched, but the enemy capital ship did not appear on the sensors. Other Kilvar warships were in evidence and in great numbers, and their battle against the Balon continued unabated. Missiles detonated, ballistic countermeasures streaked high and low above Virix, and particle beams stabbed through the darkness.

Despite Flint’s earlier feeling that the Balon were on the verge of defeat, the aliens were still holding their own against this numerically superior enemy. It was clear the Kilvar had run into more than just the alliance as an opponent who could match them for determination.

“Where is the Cadavax?” Flint muttered.

“They should definitely be in sensor sight by now, sir,” said Burner. “The warship has either moved away from the hub or it’s at a reduced altitude.”

“Seven hundred klicks to the hub,” said Garrett.

“I have lost comms contact with Sergeant Charnos, sir,” said Becerra. “All ground receptors are grey.”

“Keep trying,” said Flint through gritted teeth. “The comms hub sensors are offline. Maybe the transmitters are down too.”

“Sir, the transmitters routed through that central structure,” said Becerra. “If they were intact, I’d be able to contact Sergeant Charnos.”

“Keep trying,” Flint repeated. If Vance was gone and Galtivon was gone, it was time to call a halt to this attack. Except, the proof wasn’t there. Not enough to be sure.

“Still nothing from the ground troops, sir,” said Becerra. “The transmitters are destroyed. It’s the only explanation.”

“Sir, if Captain Vance is gone—” said Larson, fighting the words out through anger and dismay. “We should consider aborting.”

Flint knew in his heart that he was committing his warship to a lost cause. “If there’s even the slightest chance—” he said. “What choice do we have?”

“There’s the Cadavax, sir!” yelled Burner. “They’re at a much lower altitude than before.”

The vast warship seemed to rise over the planet’s cusp, all angles and sharp edges. Its energy shield formed a bright blue ovoid and every moment, Balon missiles exploded here or there, in numbers too few to significantly drain the Cadavax’s reserves. Particle beams lanced upwards from the huge vessel in a rhythm which Flint couldn’t quite comprehend, no doubt aimed at whatever Balon targets were the priority.

Alongside the particle beams were hair-thin lines of orange propulsions as the Cadavax ejected missiles in enormous quantities. Shock bombs detonated high above, where the planet’s atmosphere became so thin that it was almost vacuum. Halos of green and brown formed around each detonation, caused by some peculiar reaction with the elements in the rarefied air.

It was an awe-inspiring demonstration of colossal firepower melded with effortless defence, though not one which left Flint with any feeling of admiration for the Kilvar. He was more interested in what he could see beyond the Cadavax’s energy shield. Patches of heat glowed a dull red on the vessel’s topside plating and the indentations created by the first Terrus attack were irregular and ugly, like puckered skin around the entrance wound from a gauss rifle shot.

Flint hated this vessel. He hated what it had done to the enemies of the Kilvar and he hated what it had done to his soldiers.

“Ready on the Terrus guns,” said Flint.

“Ready on the guns,” Larson confirmed.

The topside turrets couldn’t all fire dead ahead and Flint adjusted the annihilator so that it flew at an angle. On one of the hull sensors, he caught a glimpse of the three remaining guns rotating to point directly at their target.

“Give them the six barrels, Commander Larson,” Flint said.

And let’s hope those turrets don’t shear straight off the hull.

“Terrus guns T1, T2 and T3: fired,” said Larson.

All six projectiles struck the Cadavax’s energy shield, almost zero time after the guns discharged. The enemy warship’s shield was drained so quickly that Flint only saw it flicker before it was utterly depleted by the attack.

Having punched through the enemy defences, the EX-T slugs crashed into the Cadavax’s armour with astonishing force. The plating crumpled inwards across fifteen thousand metres of the vessel’s underside, like it was no more than paper and a split second later, the superheated metal exploded in a violent shower.

“The output on our exium cores jumped, sir,” said Eastwood, raising his voice to a near-shout over the booming retort of the guns. “We’ve been targeted by a stasis attack. Our negation pulse countered it!”

“We have sight on the ground facility, sir!” said Burner.

“Waiting for you to bring us out of phase shift before I fire the missiles, sir,” said Maddox.

This was the moment where everything happened at once – where even an experienced commanding officer could make a bad call and screw up. Flint’s eyes darted from place to place. The Cadavax had suffered massive damage, but it wasn’t out of action – not by a long shot.

On the ground below, dirty smoke rose from several places within the comms hub perimeter wall. The central building was gone – replaced by a heat-rimmed circular hole which disappeared into the ground. How deep it went, Flint didn’t know, but he’d seen enough. The soldiers at the bottom of the lift shaft could not have survived the blistering air which would have swept into the space in which they’d taken refuge. There’d be nothing left of Vance and his soldiers other than smears of indistinguishable carbon.

Cold fury returned. “Cancel the phase shift,” Flint ordered.

“Sir, we don’t need to fight this battle,” said Larson. “It’s over.”

“Like hell it is. We can take these bastards,” said Flint. “This isn’t about vengeance,” he snarled. “If we can’t have Galtivon, we’ll have Seviron instead.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Phase shift cancelled,” said Fredericks.

The power draw on the exium modules plummeted and the Hades was returned to normal phase. Immediately, a dark energy weapon struck the annihilator’s shield and all the sensors went black for a split second. The reserve gauge dropped way more than Flint had hoped, and it was a stark reminder that the Cadavax’s size and mass weren’t all for show - the Kilvar warship had some bite.

“Upper hellburner clusters one through nine: fired,” said Maddox. “Forward hellburner clusters one through six: fired. Starboard clusters one through nine: fired. Railers set to track and destroy.”

“The Cadavax has activated its underside ballistic countermeasures,” said Larson, her clipped words indicating the depths of her own fury. “And the enemy have deployed multiple shock bombs.”

Hellburners streaked into a torrent of slugs, and the Kilvar shock bombs detonated almost the moment they exited their deployment tubes. Immense flashes of dark-tinted blue illuminated the Cadavax’s underside, along with everything on the planet’s surface for thirty kilometres all around.

The enemy crew had reacted quickly, but some of the hellburners made it through the countermeasures. A series of detonations bloomed within the Terrus craters, tearing out huge pieces of armour already weakened by the EX-T slugs.

“We’ve got signs of other Kilvar ships breaking off from their existing engagements, sir,” said Garrett. “I’d guess they’re heading our way.”

“Ground targets acquired,” said Larson,

From the corner of one eye, Flint could see the sensor feed of the comms hub compound. The Kilvar were still gathered and they circled the hole in the ground, facing inwards as if they had no idea what to do now the life energy from the underground room was gone.

“Kill them,” said Flint. “All of them.”

“Underside hellburner clusters, one through nine: fired,” said Larson.

“Missile launch detected from the Cadavax, sir,” said Maddox.

“Our shield has soaked another energy weapon attack, sir,” said Fredericks. “It took a big chunk out of our reserves. We’re down to seventy percent already.”

Flint banked the Hades away, watching tracers from the annihilator’s railers as they tore through the air. The streaks of white danced in a way that told him the enemy missiles were about to strike. Hardly had the thought formed when it was proven right. Plasma explosions engulfed the Hades’ shield in such numbers that the reserve gauge slipped down like a cold beer on a hot day.

“Shield at forty-two percent,” said Fredericks. “This warship wasn’t designed to fight two entire fleets at the same.”

The underside feeds remained clear and Flint watched the gratifying sight of seventy-two high yield alliance warheads exploding all around the comms hub. This many hellburners was overkill and the facility burned like a supernova.

“Ground targets destroyed,” said Larson. She continued, quietly enough that only Flint could hear. “So long, Captain Vance. May you rest in peace.”

Flint didn’t want to confront his feelings on the matter and he banked the Hades again, intending to bring its loaded portside clusters to bear. The twists and turns of combat had brought the annihilator to a similar altitude as the Kilvar ship, and the enemy vessel’s sloping flank was less than a hundred kilometres to port.

The clarity of the feed was such that no details were spared – from the old scars on the Cadavax’s armour, to the new wounds inflicted by new weapons. Still, the Kilvar warship showed no sign that it was about to run and no sign that it was about to break into pieces.

“Upper hellburner clusters ten through twelve: fired,” said Maddox, having kept some loaded tubes in reserve, in case the first salvos were wiped out by countermeasures. “Forward hellburner clusters seven through twelve: fired.”

“Be ready on the portsides, Lieutenant,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir.”

“Some of the Balon warships are targeting us now, sir,” said Garrett. “If we aren’t their friends, they must think we’re the enemy.”

Another energy weapon struck the Hades’ shield and a half-dozen particle beams followed, fired by Kilvar diamond warships high in the atmosphere.

“Anomalies detected on two of our exium modules,” said Fredericks. “Our control system is having a hard time shutting them down.”

“Five seconds on the Terrus reload,” said Larson.

“Shield reserves at fifteen percent,” said Eastwood. “Once it collapses, we’re down to those three mesh deflectors.”

In only a few seconds, the warship’s defences had been reduced to almost nothing. Flint glanced at the tactical, where a hundred or more warheads from both the Kilvar and the Balon were inbound, and that wasn’t counting the particle beams which stabbed into the Hades’ shield even as he watched, knocking the gauge to thirteen percent.

Unlucky thirteen. But it won’t be the Hades going down in flames.

“We’ve got them,” Flint said, as the Terrus reload timer hit zero. The six barrels were aimed to portside, like the deck guns of an ancient seagoing battleship.

“Terrus guns T1, T2 and T3: fired,” said Larson.

A split-second before the Terrus barrels jumped back into their housings, the Cadavax vanished into lightspeed.

“Damnit!” shouted Flint.

His first thought was that Seviron had outthought him, and had taken to lightspeed at the precise moment required to avoid the EX-T projectiles. Then, Flint realised that couldn’t possibly be true. The Kilvar hadn’t witnessed the Hades fire two rapid salvos from the Terrus-VI guns, so there was no way they could have timed the reload interval.

“Sir, our shield is almost at zero!” said Eastwood urgently.

The missiles which had been inbound on the tactical only a moment ago were now gone, and the railers hadn’t destroyed them all. Those which had made it past the countermeasures in the short time Flint was distracted by the vanishing Cadavax had reduced the shield reserves to only two percent.

“Further enemy launches detected, sir,” said Burner.

“We can’t stick around here,” said Larson.

A Kilvar particle beam knocked out the last two percent of the shield reserves. The gauge ticked straight back up to one percent, but that wasn’t going to cut it.

“This isn’t our fight. Not any longer,” said Flint.

The Cadavax wasn’t coming back, and even if it was, he guessed the short time it was away would be enough for its shield reserves to replenish high enough that hellburners alone wouldn’t have the firepower to burn through them before the enemy warship destroyed the Hades. The Terrus guns might reload in time, but that was a gamble.

With anger in his head and sorrow in his heart, Flint activated an SRT and the Hades jumped far away from Virix. When it emerged, he requested maximum from the engines and the annihilator sped from its arrival place.

“What about those anomalies, Lieutenant Fredericks?” asked Flint.

“I got on top of them, sir.” Fredericks sighed the weary sigh of a man who’d won his own hard fight when nobody had been around to witness it. “The drain on the energy shield came too quickly and our exium modules weren’t able to cope. It’ll happen again.”

The Kilvar did not give chase, and Flint watched the sensors for a time until he was sure. Only then did he permit his mind to play through the events at Virix. He’d been offered not just one prize, but two – Galtivon and Seviron had both been within his power to destroy and with their extermination would have come a real opportunity for the alliance to build and strengthen, so that when the Kilvar came crawling out of the woodwork again, they’d be met with a force they couldn’t defeat.

Instead, the Shadows of Kilvus had escaped and Captain Vance was dead, along with everyone he’d taken with him to the comms hub. It was failure stacked upon failure, and Flint hated knowing what he had almost achieved.

He caught Larson looking his way and he shook his head slightly.

Not this time. I won’t break.

The only trouble was, Flint didn’t know what he could do next, other than return to the Ancidium and wait for the Kilvar ascendancy. He stared at nothing. Perhaps his brain would pull off a miracle and come up with a plan that would keep both hope and the mission alive.

Chapter Sixteen

The fizzing of gauss rifle coils merged with the thumping discharge of Rodan shotguns and the undulating drone of the MG-12 motors to produce a sound that, many years ago, would have filled Captain James Vance with exhilaration.

Now, the thrill of combat was gone and all that remained was his stubbornness and a determination to survive this onslaught for as long as possible. It didn’t matter that his defiance meant nothing to his enemy. This stand was for Vance and his platoon, so that when the life was sucked from their bodies, they’d go down with pride.

Two more Kilvar shock troops dropped into sight among the splayed metals of the ruined lift, just as the three which had preceded them toppled beneath a pulverising fusillade of slugs. Four additional enemy soldiers thudded down straight after and Vance snarled as he discharged his shotgun into the nearest. The rest of the platoon were arrayed in an arc which allowed them to fire into the passage, and their bullets punched into dead flesh.

“I’m switching in my last magazine!” shouted Lieutenant Gantry. The man was prone a few metres to Vance’s left, and his MG-12 steamed in the cold air.

“My final magazine is at seventy percent,” said Rendos.

The Daklan was also prone, a short distance from Gantry. Rendos fired another burst from his MG-12 and the bullets shredded the chest of a Kilvar monstrosity which was straightening after its ten-kilometre fall down the lift shaft.

“Grenade out!” yelled Drawl. He hurled a plasma grenade with his familiar side-arm throw. The grey cylinder landed among the pack and detonated with a flash and a whump of displaced air. One of the Kilvar lost half a leg in the blast and smoke rose from the charred flesh of the others.

“When’s that airstrike due, sir?” asked Carrington.

Sergeant Charnos was patched into the Balon kit and was dealing with the comms. The Daklan was out of the firing line and he peered at the largest console in the room. That console was fitted with many screens and hundreds of buttons.

“What progress, Sergeant Charnos?” asked Vance on the comms.

“The Hades is on its way,” said Charnos. He sounded distracted. “This console appears capable of real time comms anywhere within the Balon planetary network.”

Charnos wasn’t known for rambling, so his interest in the console was enough to interest Vance as well.

“Does that help us, Sergeant?” asked Vance, aiming a shot into the passage.

The concentrated fire had torn all bar one of the Kilvar into chunks, and the final one dragged itself along the ground towards the platoon. A barrage of slugs caused the creature’s head to explode like someone had pushed a grenade into its mouth.

“I do not know, Captain Vance,” said Charnos. He studiously poked a few of the buttons. “I will find out.”

Vance couldn’t imagine what help might come from the Balon tech and he gave his full attention once more to the engagement.

“Here they come!” said Raven.

This time, the Kilvar tumbled down in a mass of twisted limbs and grinning mouths. Drawl picked another grenade from the pile lying at his side and threw it. He had another one in flight before the first had landed.

“I have activated something,” said Charnos, with almost comical puzzlement.

Vance was only half listening. His shotgun magazine ran dry and he pulled hard on the ejection lever with his index and middle fingers. The old magazine clattered to the ground and, as he snapped a new one in place, an unpleasant buzzing noise made him turn to the dais behind. Galtivon was in its cage, the creature’s filthy presence a constant reminder of what Vance was fighting to destroy.

The buzzing rose in volume so abruptly that Vance thought his eardrums might burst. He clenched his teeth against the pain and looked around to find out what the hell was going on. As quickly as it had come, the buzzing vanished and with it went the cage containing Galtivon.

“Sergeant Charnos, what just happened?” Vance demanded.

“I do not know,” said Charnos. He kept his back to Vance and shrugged like a guilty teenager.

“Well find out!” said Vance.

Charnos wasn’t comms trained to the level required for warship duty, but he had the talent. He started pushing more buttons, this time with greater purpose.

“Galtivon has gone elsewhere,” the Daklan said.

“I can see that,” said Vance. He glanced towards the lift shaft, which was now a mess of severed limbs and torn lumps of grey, bloodless flesh. A faraway rumble came to his ears, audible over the continuing gunfire. “Explosives,” he said in alarm.

“The topside sensor arrays have gone offline,” said Charnos. “Our visibility is gone, and also our comms to the Hades.”

Vance added two and two, coming up with a perfect four. “Galtivon is no longer on Virix. If the Kilvar have a way of detecting that, they’ll have no need to storm this facility.” He swore. “They might just send a plasma missile straight down that lift shaft and have done with us.”

“That is what I would do,” said Charnos.

“Where did you send Galtivon, Sergeant Charnos?” asked Vance. Up to now, he hadn’t felt an urgency about the situation, since the conclusion seemed forgone. All of sudden, he had a feeling he’d been handed an opportunity, though one which came without a list of instructions.

“Galtivon went to another node on the Balon transport network,” said Charnos. “Or so I believe.”

Vance didn’t pretend to know the ins and outs of technology. He could put it to good use, especially if it fired bullets, but he rarely asked for an explanation of how the wires were joined inside. So, Vance did not ask about nodes or question how a thirty-metre cage might travel from Place A to Place B without any visible method of propulsion.

“Can this tech get us out of here?” he asked.

“I will activate it again on your command,” said Charnos, who’d evidently been paying closer attention to what he was doing than his random finger pokings would have suggested. “I believe that anything on the dais will be transported.”

Vance bellowed orders on the platoon comms. “Everyone onto the dais! Move, move, move!”

The platoon didn’t require micromanagement for a basic position change and they fell back, walking sideways up the ramp leading onto the dais, all the while discharging their weapons into the Kilvar. Vance could see the enemy were still gathering, their numbers increasing so rapidly that they’d almost choked the bottom of the lift shaft in their eagerness to taste the sweet bullets which Vance and his platoon generously served up to them.

“Raimi, you’ve got four shots in that tube if I’ve been counting right,” said Vance. He’d ordered the rocket troops to be sparing with their ammunition while the small arms were doing the job.

“Yes, sir.”

“Why don’t you make it three?”

“Yes, sir,” said Raimi. He was already on the dais, not far from Vance, and his shoulder launcher protruded over the slope. “Rocket out.”

The missile sped into the tunnel and the subsequent plasma blast roiled hungrily into the room. None of the soldiers were close enough to be affected and Vance smiled nastily when he saw the resulting carnage. The Kilvar soldiers could soak bullets, but they couldn’t soak a proximity plasma rocket detonation, and not much was left other than burned and stinking pieces.

“Here they come again,” said Raven, as the dead Kilvar were immediately replaced by a half dozen others. The shotguns were at the extremes of their effective range and she fired her gauss rifle instead. “Take this you assholes.”

“Sergeant Charnos, get us out of here,” said Vance. “I don’t care where the hell we end up.”

Charnos was a thirty-metre sprint from the dais, but he made no effort to run and Vance wondered suddenly if he’d inadvertently put the soldier in position where he felt obliged to stay behind.

“If you show me what buttons to press—” Vance started.

“That will not be necessary, Captain,” said Charnos, backing away at last. “I have activated the device. However, there is a problem – the hardware has a cooldown period before it will operate again.”

“How long?” asked Vance.

“I don’t know,” said Charnos. “The Balon language is unfamiliar to me.”

“You figured out how to make all this stuff work, Sergeant,” said Carrington. “How’d you do that without speaking the lingo?”

Charnos tapped the side of his head with a finger and said nothing.

“Fine, whatever,” said Carrington. “Just so long as we get out of here before the missiles land.”

Vance wasn’t so convinced the timings would end up in his favour. If the Balon transport hardware had a remaining cooldown greater than two seconds, that would be far longer than he was comfortable with. Especially since the Kilvar showed no sign they’d given up on the direct approach of falling down the lift shaft.

A couple of the alien scumbags were staring Vance’s way from the corridor and one of them stretched its mouth wide in one of the grins he despised as much as anything he’d ever known. He put a bullet into the back of the alien’s throat and another into the top of its skull. The creature jerked in a way that made him think it was shrugging, like the wounds were of no concern whatsoever. Vance’s inner hatred meter lurched into the red zone.

Another explosive boom rumbled down the shaft, this one much closer than last time. It was immediately followed by a second blast and this one was more like thunder directly overhead. The air cracked and Vance threw himself flat, yelling at the same time for his soldiers to do likewise.

Plasma from the missile roared through the shaft and into the room, with an intensity which made Raimi’s shoulder rocket look like a penny firework. The brightness made Vance close his eyes tightly and he hunkered down, while the HUD in his suit helmet presented him with a temperature warning in huge, unmissable letters.

“The next one’s got our name on it,” said Private Fidel Coates when the blast and the heat receded.

Vance agreed, though he didn’t say it out loud. Despite the faint possibility of escape offered by the Balon tech, none of it was in his control. The only thing he could do was watch and wait, and hope that everything worked out. It was unbearable.

Then, his eyes landed on the oblex core, which Gantry had brought up onto the dais. The device floated on the left-hand side of the platform, at the closest edge to the main Balon console. An idea clicked into place.

“Lieutenant Gantry, I want that oblex core to place us in stasis for—” Vance pulled the next figure out of his ass, “five minutes. The stasis field needs to be large enough to shield that console from missile blasts, without bringing it into zero-time.”

“Yes, sir,” said Gantry. The man rarely asked questions when he’d been given clear orders.

Private Drawl started talking a few seconds later, like the most intelligent question he’d ever ask had taken its time to reach maturity in his head. “Will the Balon tech be able to transport us while we’re in…”

The surroundings changed. Without any sign of a transition, the subterranean room was gone and Vance found himself elsewhere.

“…a zero-time state?” Drawl finished.

Vance and his platoon were standing on another dais, identical to the one they’d just been transported from, and in a room which was similarly large. Various items of Balon tech were fixed to every wall, and yet more of the pillars rose to join the ceiling. Wherever Vance and his platoon had ended up, it was in the grip of a death sphere and the air reeked of it.

“The answer is yes, Private Drawl,” said Charnos.

“I can see that now, Sergeant,” said Drawl.

“Quiet,” said Vance sharply. His shotgun barrel tracked his gaze as his eyes swept the room. “Looks clear,” he said, speaking in a low, almost whispered voice.

“Except for those dead Balon over there,” said Carrington, also talking quietly.

“What now, sir?” whispered Drawl.

“I don’t know,” said Vance loudly. “Watch that door. If anything comes through, shoot first, even if it looks friendly.”

“What if this thing – whatever it is - is bringing us cakes, sir?” asked Steigers.

“I don’t mind picking Rodan slugs out of my jam sponge, soldier.”

Vance strode off the dais in order to buy himself some thinking time. “Any idea where this device brought us, Sergeant Charnos?” he asked, thumbing over his shoulder so that his officer would know exactly which device he was referring to. He stopped and waited for an answer.

“No, Captain.”

“Are we on another planet?” asked Vance. “Or in another location on Virix?”

“I believe we are on another planet, sir,” said the Daklan. “I did not choose the destination – it was already keyed into the Balon hardware.”

“Did the planet have a name?” asked Vance. Sometimes wringing information from Charnos was like pulling teeth.

“None that my language module could recognize, sir.”

Charnos arrived at Vance’s shoulder. He pointed at one of the Balon consoles. “That comms unit over there should contain a database of the Balon language and every other language known to them. We should connect the oblex core.”

“I have a feeling all the Balon are dead,” said Vance. “Why would we need to speak with them?” He sighed. “Fine – the language files might come in useful later.” Vance motioned Lieutenant Gantry over. “See what you can do.”

“Yes, sir.”

Vance was pondering his next move, when he was suddenly struck by the enormity of what had just happened. Only a couple of minutes ago, he’d been resigned to death and now, by some miracle of the universe, he and his platoon were in a place of relative calm with no Kilvar and no plasma missiles to dodge.

He took stock. Galtivon was still missing, and he had no idea how to return to the Hades, if indeed the annihilator hadn’t already been destroyed. Vance and his platoon were lost and doubtless a long way from home, but right this very moment, life was wonderful.

Vance smiled.

Chapter Seventeen

The oblex core got to work. It was required to crack the console security, extract the language files, analyse those files and convert them into a format compatible with the language modules in an alliance combat suit.

Those resultant language files would likely be rough around the edges and entirely blind to idiomatic dialogue, but should they be needed, having them available would be infinitely preferable to communication by means of hand waving, smiling and pointing.

Vance didn’t know how long the process would take. A few minutes at worst, if past performance of the core was any guide. He left the device alone and watched Sergeant Charnos attempt mastery over the alien control panels. It was logical to think the platoon had been transported to a second comms hub, and that meant they should – in theory – be able to contact the Hades, even if the annihilator was a long way distant.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be so easy.

“This is not the main comms routing station,” said Charnos.

“Why not?” asked Vance. His earpiece dinged to let him know the new language modules had been installed into his suit databanks and he raised a thumb to Gantry in acknowledgement.

Charnos furrowed his dark brows. “I do not know for certain, Captain.”

“I’ll happily accept guesses, Sergeant,” said Vance. “Even shit ones.”

“Very well,” said Charnos. “We should have been transported to the same location as Galtivon. However, that has not happened.”

“No it has not,” Vance agreed.

“So, Galtivon was sent to a receiving station in which all the Balon were dead. With nobody to move the cage, it must still be on the arrival platform. Since two objects cannot occupy the same place at the same time, it seems likely the transportation network diverted us to a different receiving station. Perhaps a secondary station that acts as backup.”

“If that’s one of your shit guesses, I look forward to hearing your good ones, Sergeant,” said Vance. He gave the comms console a non-too-gentle kick with the toe of his boot. “We should interrogate this for answers,” he said. “To find out where we ended up.”

Charnos was on a roll and his guesses kept on coming. “It is certain that we are either in the same facility as Galtivon, or in the closest alternative facility on the same planet.”

“So the life-sucking bastard could be right through that door,” said Vance.

“Yes.” Charnos grinned.

Vance was tempted to walk straight over and have a look outside. Common sense took hold and he reined in his eagerness to get things moving. “It would be better if we obtained some additional intel first.”

“I will extract the information we require,” said Charnos.

Vance had little better to do than watch as the Daklan poked here and there on the control panels. Elsewhere in the room, the soldiers were becoming fidgety and Vance told them to settle. Even so, he found himself shifting from foot to foot and his gaze kept going to the single entrance.

“We arrived at the same receiving station facility as Galtivon,” said Charnos after a couple of minutes.

“So where is the asshole?” asked Vance.

“Our target is within six hundred metres of this room, Captain.” Charnos raised an arm and indicated vaguely left beyond the doorway.

“Target,” spat Vance. “There’s not much we can do to kill it without the Hades being here. Anyway, give me the directions.”

“Galtivon is in the main comms station and I have sent the map data to your suit computer,” said Charnos. “When we find our quarry, we will also be able to communicate with Captain Flint from the same location.”

“Sounds good,” said Vance. He accepted the map file and opened it for a look. The Balon complex was huge and sprawling and several other gateway nodes were identifiable, some of them many kilometres from the platoon’s current position. On that basis alone, Vance was relieved he’d only have a six-hundred-metre sprint to his destination.

The eagerness to be moving returned, stronger than before. “You’ve got another couple of minutes to turn up some intel we might have use for, Sergeant. Then I want to be out of here.”

Charnos continued tapping at the control panels for twenty seconds, and then his expression changed. Vance knew at once that something was wrong.

“What is it?” he asked, stepping closer.

“We have been here too long,” said Charnos.

The console was fitted with more than a dozen screens, which so far had displayed only text. With a poke of his finger, Charnos switched them over so they showed feeds from the facility’s internal monitors.

“Crap,” said Vance, when he saw what was coming.

“We should not delay,” said Charnos.

“Where are they?” asked Vance. It was hard to take his eyes off the hundreds of Kilvar shock troops which were running along several different and equally anonymous corridors of grey. Their dead eyes were fixed on nothing and Vance sensed their hunger.

“Within this facility, Captain. I could pinpoint their locations, but that would take time. By then we—”

“I get the picture,” said Vance.

He shouted the order to move and the soldiers dashed into new positions on both sides of the exit.

“We’ve got incoming,” Vance informed them. “And lots of it.”

“Well ain’t that just swell?” said Raven.

“There’s no time for screwing around,” Vance continued. “Galtivon is nearby and that’s where we’re heading.”

“What happens when we get there, sir?” asked Carrington. “Are the Kilvar coming for us first or to free their boss?”

“What do you think, Private?”

“I think we’re in the shit, sir.”

“Well that’s what I think too,” said Vance. “Now be quiet.”

“The door security is cracked, sir,” said Gantry. “You should be able to send the open command via the oblex core.”

“Be ready,” said Vance. He linked to the core and instructed it to open the exit, half expecting a bunch of Kilvar to spill through.

“Clear,” said Gantry.

The doorway was three metres wide, and beyond was a short passage leading to an intersection. It wasn’t completely dark, but not far off, and the sensor in Vance’s suit helmet boosted the available light, adding an unnatural sharpness to everything.

“Let’s go,” said Vance. “Ipanvir, Drawl, Lieutenant Tagra, you’re with me. The rest follow in your squads.”

Vance didn’t let his mind linger on the hordes of Kilvar soldiers within the facility. He dashed into the passage, noting the seamless dark metal of the wall, as if the place had been hewn from a block of solid alloy.

Every surface glistened with damp, though it didn’t affect Vance’s footing. Unlike the receiving station, the air out here contained an edge of sulphur, and something else unidentifiable which Vance didn’t quite like.

At the end of the passage, he stopped. The intersecting corridor was much larger, being five metres wide and four high. Vance checked both ways – left, the passage went on until the fog of the death sphere blocked his sight. It was the same story when he looked right.

Listening carefully, Vance heard a susurration. He could neither identify the cause, nor the direction or distance. The sound fooled the microphone in his suit helmet – or at least it informed him the origin point was everywhere.

Dead Balon lay in both directions and Vance experienced a twinge of sorrow that he hadn’t felt on Virix. This, he felt, was a warrior race, ruthless, yet noble. Perhaps they would one day have become an enemy of the alliance, but maybes weren’t enough to wish another species extinct.

If the alliance ever defeats the Kilvar, I wonder if we’ll be much less tolerant than before, seeing death in every shadow, and using fire to dispel the darkness instead of words.

In a way, Vance hoped he wouldn’t be around to find out.

“Anything, sir?” asked Drawl.

“Looks clear,” said Vance.

“This is going to be a bad one,” said Drawl matter-of-factly and without any rancour.

“Yes,” said Vance.

He stepped out into the corridor and broke into a run. The thumping of his feet was muted and his breathing loud in his ears. Vance could still hear the susurration, as if it had increased in volume in order that he not forget its presence.

The next turning was fifty metres away and again he slowed in order that he didn’t run into the welcoming arms of the Kilvar. One look was enough and Vance was off again. The map on his HUD indicated the route was straightforward, so he wasn’t forced to divide his attention between what lay ahead and the image inside his visor.

“Heading left,” said Vance, slowing at the next intersection.

A Balon lay fallen at the turning and he had to plant a boot on its chest in order to look around the corner. The carapace hardly flexed – not even when Vance applied his full weight.

Another short sprint brought Vance to the top of a stairwell, which descended through the left-hand wall. Peering down, he saw that a couple of Balon had died here and fallen awkwardly. The steps were steep and narrow, and the dead bodies would make the descent unnecessarily difficult.

“Let’s see if we can roll these to the bottom,” said Vance.

He headed down and the stairwell was just wide enough for Lieutenant Tagra to stand at his side. Halfway to the bottom, they reached the first corpse. The alien had died on its back across two of the steps. Its legs and chest were so massive they formed a drop from one side of the body to the other. Vance could have clambered over, but he’d seen situations like this before. All it would take was for the body to slither away at the wrong time and suddenly he’d be dealing with an injury in his platoon.

Reluctantly, Vance set down his gun and, in an awkward side crouch with his backside against the wall, he got both hands beneath the Balon’s lower torso. Tagra did likewise, grunting in irritation at the lack of space. Together, the two of them managed to heave the creature over. Vance watched expectantly, but the corpse only rolled a few steps and then came to a stop.

He swore and descended after the body. Luckily, the Balon was no longer lying at such a difficult angle and Vance saw that he could make it past.

“Come on,” he said, glancing back up the stairwell. A couple of squads were still at the top, watching in case the Kilvar appeared, and he waved a hand to indicate they should stay there.

To Vance’s relief, the next Balon had died in a much more accommodating manner, being lengthways down the stairwell instead of across. Squeezing by, Vance ordered the last two squads to begin their descent.

At the bottom, he paused in another five-metre passage to allow his platoon to join him. Vance looked left and right with increasing agitation. The Kilvar weren’t the fastest of runners, but they could cover the ground.

“I wish that damned whispering would stop,” said Drawl.

“Me too, soldier,” said Vance, his eyes focused on the gloom to his left. He thought he saw – or sensed – movement, and he took a couple of steps closer. “Shit, nothing,” he said, wondering if his unease was getting the better of him.

The last member of the platoon was only a few steps from the bottom, and the oblex core was already here, floating in the middle of the passage. It was time to go. The muscles in Vance’s legs bunched in preparation for the sprint. and then, he saw it, at the extremes of his visual range, as if the fog of the death sphere had purposely lessened just enough to allow him a glimpse of his fate.

A single Kilvar soldier was standing in the centre of the corridor, unmoving, but staring directly at Vance. Its eyes were darker patches on the darkest of greys and the rags it wore dangled like a rotting funeral shroud.

“Enemy sighted,” said Vance, his voice cold and calm.

He put three Rodan shots into the Kilvar’s head – thud-thud-thud. Flesh sprayed from the wounds and still the creature didn’t move. All it did was stare. Vance didn’t lower his weapon and gave it another three shots.

“Uh, sir, we’ve got more behind,” said Carrington.

“How many?” asked Vance through gritted teeth.

“Two. No, more than two. I can’t see well enough to be sure, sir.”

Vance took a long stride forward and then another. He kept shooting the Kilvar. Private Drawl kept pace and did likewise.

The enemy soldier toppled backwards, its head having been blown away by the Rodan slugs. Vance could see that others were gathered behind it. They stood silent and still, as if they had all the time in the world.

With the receiving station still nearly three hundred metres distant, Vance and his platoon were effectively cut off, leaving only a retreat up the stairs as a means of escape. It didn’t take a genius to figure that the enemy were already at the top. Even if they weren’t, going back and finding another route was hardly viable.

Besides, Vance was in the mood to take the direct route.

“Ipanvir, blow those bastards into pieces,” he said.

Chapter Eighteen

The coils of Ipanvir’s shoulder launcher hummed and spat out a rocket. A pattern of swirling propellant traced the missile’s path as it sped towards its target. Vance had already gauged the closest Kilvar soldier at fifty metres and the corridor was large enough to allow some expansion of the coming blast.

A low whumping sound accompanied the explosion as the rocket struck the wall a few metres behind the lead Kilvar. Vance already had his gaze averted, yet the vivid light was too much for his eyelids, and blobs of colour slid across his retinas when he opened his eyes again.

Advancing rapidly, Vance sent a couple of shots along the passage at what he thought might be Kilvar. The braying roar of Gantry’s MG-12 came from behind, along with a rapid series of plasma grenade blasts. Again the corridor was illuminated, adding twenty paces to Vance’s visibility range.

Yet more of the Kilvar were ahead, like they were ghosts who’d stepped out of the walls. They watched Vance with the same hatred as he felt for them, and they didn’t move.

Ipanvir’s rocket had wiped out the enemy front ranks. Lumps of burned flesh littered the floor and an uneven coating of char lined the walls, as if it had been spread like rancid butter. The stench was awful and Vance coughed at the odour of cooked, thousand-year-old meat.

“Lieutenant Gantry, what’s happening at our back?” he shouted.

“The enemy isn’t moving, sir, no matter how many bullets we put into them.”

Vance didn’t like illogical behaviour, even when it was seemingly working in his favour. It made him think he was missing something. Something important.

Although he couldn’t figure out what the enemy was up to, that didn’t mean he had to stop pushing.

“There’s a door along this way,” Vance said, his eyes darting between the right-hand wall and the target he was shooting. The door wasn’t visible except on his HUD map. “We have to pass through it to get to the receiving station.”

“I cannot see a door,” said Tagra. “How far is it?”

Vance couldn’t give a precise answer, since the HUD map didn’t have an overlay of his position. “Twenty or thirty metres.” He snarled. “We’ll have to cut these assholes down until we find it, Lieutenant.”

“Why aren’t they moving, sir?” asked Drawl. He hurled a grenade along the passage and then shot his Rodan into the explosion it created.

“I don’t know, soldier,” said Vance.

“It doesn’t feel right, sir.”

“That’s both of us thinking the same way, Private.”

Vance checked over his shoulder. The soldiers in the two rear squads were still unloading their shotguns into the gathered Kilvar, while Gantry’s MG-12 was cutting the enemy down at their knees. Strangely, the susurration was clearly audible, perhaps more so than before. It didn’t sound like any tech Vance had heard before, and he felt a gnawing in his stomach.

“Those at the rear should conserve their ammunition, sir,” said Tagra. The Daklan’s shotgun was tucked tightly into his shoulder to control the recoil, and he fired it as quickly as it would reload.

Having burned through most of their ammunition on Virix, the platoon wasn’t exactly carrying enough spare magazines to chew through every single Kilvar soldier in this facility. The enemy could likely take no offensive action whatsoever other than blocking the passage, and they’d still win. As soon as a human or Daklan came near, the Kilvar would suck out their life energy and that would be that.

Running out of bullets in a high-pressure combat environment wasn’t tolerable.

“Hold fire at the back!” shouted Vance. “We’re pushing on. Don’t shoot unless you have to.” He pointed forward. “Ipanvir, those assholes are standing in our way.”

“I will clear a path,” said the Daklan.

He sent another rocket along the passage with the same result the first. Another ten or twelve Kilvar were either blown to pieces, or burned so badly their bodies could no longer function.

More waited beyond. Those in the front had flesh seared so badly it was split and cracked, or torn away to reveal yellow bone beneath. The wounds bothered them not at all and Vance wondered if a Kilvar body was no more than a disposable vessel for the vile consciousness existing within.

Vance strode towards his enemy. The stink intensified and he shut off the filter in his suit helmet. Each discharge of his Rodan ripped chunks of plasma-damaged skin and bone from the Kilvar. His ammunition readout showed ten more shots in the magazine and after that, Vance only had his gauss rifle.

“I can see the door,” he said, striding into the smoke-thickened gloom.

Drawl was with him on one side and Tagra on the other. The two soldiers fired repeatedly into the Kilvar. The floor had become greasy and Vance’s foot skidded. He steadied himself and unloaded his final shotgun rounds into the same enemy soldier. The creature toppled face down, the crunch of its impact lost among the other sounds of combat.

Vance counted more than a dozen Kilvar soldiers between his platoon and the exit, and that included the enemy who were beyond the door yet close enough to kill with a swipe of their arms.

“Ipanvir, how many in that tube?” Vance knew the answer and the answer was two. He hoped he’d miscounted.

“Two, sir,” said the Daklan.

“Raimi?”

“Two, sir.”

Four rockets would more than clear the way to the corridor exit, but if the Kilvar were waiting on the opposite side of the door, the platoon wouldn’t be going much further.

“Ipanvir, turn them into ash,” said Vance.

He turned away as the rocket sped along the corridor. Heat and light followed, and Vance felt something heavy and yielding strike him on the thigh. He grunted and opened his eyes. A scorched Kilvar hand lay on the floor next to his foot, its four fingers and thumb slowly curling up as if it was still alive. A patch of corrosion had formed on the alloy where it had landed.

Before he could stop himself, Vance kicked the hand away, wondering too late if he’d made a mistake and opened himself to the extraction of his life energy. He didn’t die. In fact, he felt no ill effects whatsoever.

“The doorway is almost exposed,” said Tagra. “If we kill those three nearby Kilvar, we can pass through.”

Vance would have preferred to kill another dozen in order to clear some extra space, but the enemy showed no indication they were about to attack. Perhaps that would change if they believed the platoon was about to slip out of their grasp.

“Lieutenant Gantry, we need to get through this door in a hurry.”

“It should be on the same security circuit as all the other doors, sir,” said Gantry. Judging by his next words, he wasn’t entirely sure. “I’ll check.”

Vance continued his advance and stopped fifteen metres from the Kilvar closest to the door. It felt good to have the gauss rifle in his hands again, even if its slugs produced little more than a small hole in the enemy flesh.

The whispering which had been present throughout turned up another notch and Vance realised how much it had wormed into his mind. It was like a malicious voice talking right into his ear, the words too muffled to discern, but their meaning abundantly clear.

“Ah crap,” he said under his breath, as realisation came.

Maybe the behaviour of the Kilvar was not illogical after all. Maybe they were trying to keep the platoon in this corridor in order that something else could have the pleasure of extracting their life energy. A big something else.

“We’ve got to move,” said Vance.

Although he tried to keep his voice even, the soldiers picked up on the urgency.

“What is it, Captain?” asked Tagra.

“I have this feeling in my bones,” said Vance. “It’s telling me we’ve got incoming and whatever it is, it’s going to be a whole lot worse than the Kilvar in this passage. We don’t want to be around when it gets here.”

“I’ve got a couple of grenades left, sir,” said Drawl. “I’ll get rid of these last ones at the door.”

Without hesitation, he threw them one after the other towards the Kilvar who remained close to the exit. The twin blasts knocked over two enemy soldiers and left a third wobbling. Tagra still had some rounds left in his shotgun and he put three into the creature, causing it to fall sideways to the floor.

“The door was on a different security circuit,” said Gantry. “Everything’s dealt with.”

“Good work, Lieutenant.”

Vance hurried along the corridor, glancing once behind. The Kilvar that way were faintly visible when they should have been lost in the death sphere. They must have been silently following the platoon, always keeping that same distance.

The exit door was three metres wide and three high, indistinguishable from the wall except for the thin, almost invisible, seam which traced its outline. The nearest Kilvar was a couple of steps and an arm swing from hitting anyone passing through the exit. Beyond that, the enemy soldiers were visible for as far as Vance could see.

A tap on the shoulder made Vance turn. It was Carrington and she offered him a spare Rodan magazine. Vance smiled and took it, swapping it into his gun quickly. Other soldiers were also offering out what few spares they had, as if they sensed this would be the last opportunity they’d have.

“I’m opening the door,” said Vance. “Be ready.”

He sent the command to the oblex core, aware of the soldiers bunching up. Vance couldn’t blame them for wanting to be out of here – he wasn’t much enjoying the atmosphere himself and the décor had seen better days.

The door slid open without a sound and the passage beyond was empty. Vance’s eyes went to the Kilvar and back to the exit. The enemy didn’t move.

“Sir,” said Raimi. “There’s something coming.”

Vance looked once towards the rear, and saw a shape which seemed to be all limbs approaching through the gathered Kilvar. The death sphere made it impossible for him to make out the details and he wondered if that was something for which he should be thankful.

In a moment of lucidity – or perhaps one of madness – Vance’s brain picked out a word among the whispering. Lashar, lashar, it went, over and over. He had no idea if this was what the creature named itself, and he had even less of an idea where it had come from. Perhaps in the many worlds the Kilvar had visited, they had found this being and converted it to their cause.

“Raimi, give it some,” said Vance calmly.

“Hell yeah,” said Raimi.

The shoulder launched rocket flew along the passage and detonated against the ceiling directly over the approaching Lashar. To Vance’s surprise, the explosion appeared more grey than white, as if its strength was lessened by the approaching enemy. He squinted and saw the creature still coming, with its flesh ablaze. The Lashar was stooped low and he guessed its full height was close to six metres. Its four long limbs were skeletally thin, but Vance felt sure the alien was tremendously strong.

“Move!” shouted Vance. “Into the passage! Enfield, I want charges on that door to seal it shut!”

He urged the soldiers past him, resisting his body’s own desire to run with them. Gantry went by, the oblex core following on its invisible leash. Unslinging his pack, Private Enfield dropped into a crouch and started hunting for microcharges.

“What about me, sir?” asked Raimi. He patted the rocket tube, though he glanced nervously over his shoulder at the same time. “Still got one in the pipe.”

“I don’t think we have enough firepower to take that thing down, soldier,” said Vance. “Get moving.”

Raimi dashed through the door. Still Vance stared. Tagra and Drawl didn’t move either, as if they weren’t going to back down until they received a direct order telling them to get the hell away.

The Lashar emerged from the ranks of smaller Kilvar, with patches of plasma flame burning on its grey-yellow flesh. It was spindly, yet with a languid grace, like a spider crawling across its web to where a struggling fly was trapped. The Lashar had two heads, though it kept them lowered so that its faces were hidden.

“This creature enjoys the hunt,” said Tagra. “It does not wish for a rapid conclusion.”

At that moment, the Lashar raised both of its bald heads on their long necks. Vance was not surprised to find the creature’s faces possessed bottomless, empty sockets. The noses were gone and the creature’s mouths were wide. In appearance, the two faces almost exactly resembled those of the Kilvar soldiers, except the Lashar’s thin lips were moving nonstop, like it was talking to itself or muttering curses. This, Vance realised, was the source of the whispering.

“It’s time to leave,” he said, shooting the alien a couple of times in the head, just in case it was vulnerable. The Lashar hardly flinched. “Be on your way, soldiers,” said Vance.

Drawl and Tagra turned and hotfooted it after the others.

“The charges are set,” said Enfield. He was holding a pale blue cuboid reverentially in both hands.

“What’s that?” asked Vance.

“This is the Big One, sir. I’ve been carrying it with me since the Lavorix wars.”

“Use it,” said Vance. “And activate these microcharges as soon as the door closes.”

Vance lowered his gauss rifle and stared along the passage. Slowly and deliberately, he raised his fist towards the Lashar, with his middle finger high and proud.

Then, Vance dashed through the doorway while Enfield sent the Big One skittering into the passage. The door closed, but the whispering remained.

Chapter Nineteen

The platoon hadn’t gone far, having been ordered by Lieutenant Gantry to halt at the next intersection, only fifty metres beyond the now-closed door.

“Head left!” shouted Vance.

A fizzing, crackling sound made him look over his shoulder. Enfield’s charges burned brightly as they melted the door into its frame. It was possible the Kilvar might open it before the metal cooled enough to form a solid bond, but Vance hoped the Big One would keep the enemy at bay long enough.

“Damnit, that charge weighed about twenty pounds,” said Enfield. “The first time I get to use a GX92 and I won’t even see the blast.”

“Picture it in your head, Private,” said Vance.

With Gantry yelling at them, the soldiers sprinted along the left corridor a couple of seconds before Vance arrived at the back of the back. The microcharges had burned out and he hoped they’d denied the Kilvar use of the door.

“Three, two, one,” said Enfield wistfully.

The detonation of the Big One was lost in the denseness of the walls. Maybe, Vance thought, it had wiped out every one of those Kilvar soldiers and ripped the Lashar a couple of new assholes at the same time. Good things sometimes did happen.

“The whispering stopped!” said Drawl.

He was right, for a moment. And then, the susurration began again, perhaps fainter than before, though Vance couldn’t be sure.

“I’ll bet the Big One gave that boss creature something to think about,” said Enfield, unable to hide his disappointment. “It’s probably hightailing it back to the mothership for some treatment.”

“Yeah,” said Carrington. “Sure it is.”

“Quiet,” said Vance. He was juggling his attention between the corridor ahead and the HUD map. “Assuming the door back there stays shut, that Lashar has two alternative routes to the main receiving station.”

“We’re calling it the Lashar now, huh?” said Raven.

“Call it whatever you want, toots,” said Drawl.

“Toots?” said Raven in horror.

“Quiet,” snarled Vance again, this time with an edge. “So, two alternative routes for the Lashar, plus many additional routes for the Kilvar who are already elsewhere within this facility.”

“It comes down to speed, Captain Vance,” said Tagra. “How quickly can we make it to our destination?”

“We’re less than two hundred metres from the receiving station,” said Vance.

He felt too remote being at the end of the line and he ran harder. The corridor was as wide as the others and he had plenty of room to sprint past the soldiers in front of him.

“Kilvar incoming,” said Gantry from the front.

The man’s repeater thundered in the corridor. Not many people – humans, at least – were strong enough to fire an MG-12 accurately without deploying it first, but Gantry was one of those few.

Vance stared into the death sphere as his feet pounded the ground and he saw the shapes ahead. Withered, nine-feet soldiers dressed in rags came hurtling through the darkness, their desperate thirst for life as palpable as their hatred of all things living.

Snapping out orders, Vance brough the platoon to a halt and the soldiers spread across the corridor. Gauss rifles cracked and the Rodan shotguns thudded flatly. The tang of charged coils filled the corridor, reminding Vance of a thousand engagements. He breathed in the purity of technology which had overcome the alien scents of this place - if only for these few moments.

Half a metre from the left-hand wall, Vance strode for the front, discharging his own shotgun into the oncoming Kilvar.

“I preferred them when they were standing still,” said Steigers.

The lead Kilvar stumbled and then crashed into the floor twenty metres away. Those coming after trampled the body as they charged onwards.

“Grenade out,” said Drawl.

Silver glinted and the device exploded at the feet of two onrushing Kilvar. One of the enemy soldiers was thrown off balance and Vance put shot after shot into its head and upper body. Desiccated grey flesh fountained and the creature fell beneath the fusillade. The third Kilvar charged on and Vance changed aim. Five more shots and his Rodan was empty. He swapped it for his gauss rifle and continued firing.

The third Kilvar faltered beneath the torrent of gunfire and then it went down. Rendos and Gantry had deployed their MG-12s and the repeaters sent a withering hail into the approaching aliens, pummelling their bodies into dry fragments of grey. Vance’s gaze shifted along the corridor and he estimated seven or eight of the enemy remained. They were spread out and that made it harder to kill them with explosives. Even so, he unclipped his final grenade – having given all the others to Drawl on Virix – and prepared the throw.

On second thoughts.

“Raimi, take them out,” he said.

Three seconds later, Raimi’s last rocket struck the ground fifty metres away. It was a good shot, landing right in the middle of the pack. Two of the enemy soldiers were blown to pieces and a couple of others simply fell down dead, or into whatever state the Kilvar descended into when their physical bodies stopped working.

“Four left,” said Drawl. “I’m out of grenades.”

“I’m out of ammo,” said Gantry.

“As am I,” said Rendos.

Vance armed his grenade and threw it towards the Kilvar. It bounced once, twice and then exploded just behind the lead enemy soldier. After a stumble, the Kilvar righted itself, only to be killed moments later by concentrated Rodan fire.

“Three left,” said Drawl.

The gunfire continued, but now it was mostly coming from gauss rifles instead of shotguns. As far as Vance was aware, the Kilvar didn’t have a weak spot – wherever he aimed his slugs, the enemy didn’t seem to care – but he couldn’t help but feel that headshots were a little more effective. Certainly it made him feel better to put his shots into those grinning maws, and so he continued.

“Two left,” said Steigers.

Given the reduced effectiveness of the gauss rifles, these last Kilvar soldiers had closed the distance to within thirty metres of the platoon. Slugs thudded into them like pellets from an airgun striking a rotten log.

For whatever reason, one of the enemy soldiers got its eyes on Vance and it diverted towards him. He stared back and fired his rifle as fast as it would reload. Vance’s mind absorbed the details of his opponent – its clothes were grey like everything else about the Kilvar, and made of tough material to have lasted the centuries. Now those garments were in tatters and its boots were split at both toes.

“Down you go,” growled Vance, daring his enemy to defy him.

The Kilvar kept running. Ten metres became five. Half of the creature’s head had been pulverised, showing jagged bone and exposing the dry, dead brain matter. In that moment, Vance knew this had once been a living creature and now, willingly or otherwise, it had been reduced to this. He felt no pity.

“Sir!” shouted Private Mack.

Vance had a stubborn streak a thousand kilometres wide. The enemy soldier was on the verge of destruction and he was determined he wouldn’t blink first. Slugs punched into the creature and its lower jaw snapped off. The Kilvar swung its arm back, ready to strike Vance and suck out his life.

Shit.

Death seemed like a high price for obstinacy and Vance jumped back. He was much too late and the Kilvar threw a wide, arcing punch. Vance twisted in the air and was hit on the shoulder with enough force to spin him around and knock him several paces along the corridor. He rolled away and sensed the Kilvar crashing to the floor nearby.

Vance climbed to his feet. His shoulder was hurt, but the blow had been a glancing one and his combat suit had absorbed much of the impact energy. The platoon had finished off the remaining two Kilvar and the aliens were a mess of bullet wounds.

“I’m not dead,” said Vance.

“You smell bad though, sir,” said Drawl.

“No, I mean I’m not dead,” said Vance. “I got hit by a Kilvar and it didn’t take my life energy.”

“Perhaps our time in the chamber has hardened us more than we imagined,” said Tagra.

Vance nodded, but his eyes were on the body of the alien which had faced him down and nearly come out on top. “It was almost out of action when it hit me,” he said. “Maybe it could no longer—"

“We should go,” said Tagra. “The receiving station is not far.”

“I think that whispering is getting louder again,” said Drawl. “Anyone got Rodan spares?”

Many of the soldiers were running low on gauss rifle magazines too. It was only possible to carry so much ammunition, and having two weapons didn’t necessarily mean a soldier was able to haul double the magazines along on a mission. Luckily, the Daklan were strong enough to carry extra and they offered out what few they had.

“A true master needs only a rifle,” Steigers proclaimed, in dramatic tones. He grinned for effect and winked at Ipanvir.

“The weapon of a baby,” said the Daklan. “Warriors carry rockets.”

“You only have one left,” said Steigers.

“And with it I shall kill a hundred.”

“Come on, move,” said Vance impatiently.

The delay had been only a few seconds, and a necessary one, but now it was time to be away from here. Like Drawl had said, the whispering of the Lashar seemed to be coming closer and Vance didn’t want to find out how many gauss rifle shots it would soak before finally accepting that it was dead. Private Enfield’s pack charges would likely be effective, but they were shaped to break open doors and wreck equipment rather than explode in the same way as grenades or rockets.

“The receiving station is not far,” said Charnos. “One left turn and then a right.”

Fifty metres further along the corridor, the platoon arrived at that left-hand turn. Vance checked around the corner and it was clear except for a dozen or so Balon corpses. He set off at a run and after a few paces, noticed that some of these Balon had been carrying what were unmistakeably weapons.

Slowing briefly, Vance stooped and picked the first gun off the floor. The weapon was designed for two-handed use and it was damned heavy. One end was bulky and likely contained the ammunition, the power supply or both. The rest of the weapon was barrel – four feet of barrel - and with a one-inch bore.

Vance was strong and he could just about carry the gun without slowing down. However, it seemed pointless to bring along a fifty-pound cannon if it was keyed to its Balon owner, so he raised the gun awkwardly on the run and his finger hunted for the trigger.

A pressure pad in front of the grip activated the weapon, and it required surprisingly little effort to discharge. The gun whined and the barrel cracked with discharge. Vance thought he was prepared for the recoil, but the strength of it caught him unawares and he grunted as the blunt stock thumped into his already bruised shoulder, with near enough force to cause a dislocation.

Where the slug went, Vance didn’t know, but that single shot was enough for him to understand the potency of these Balon guns. Some things were worth stopping for and he came to a halt. Meanwhile, the main housing of the weapon hummed and, after about five seconds, it went quiet. Vance figured that was the sound of the automatic reloading mechanism, but he didn’t test it by firing again.

“Grab the rest of these,” he said. “They’re heavy.”

A total of four other guns lay on the corridor floor. Gantry exchanged one for his MG-12, while Daklan soldiers collected the other three.

“Gauss cannon,” said Tagra approvingly.

“None left for the little guy as usual,” said Drawl.

“You are too weak to handle such firepower, tiny human,” said Londivir.

“Here’s your chance to provide a demonstration,” said Drawl, all trace of humour gone like a light being switched off. He raised his gauss rifle and started firing. “Incoming.”

Vance saw the Kilvar at the same time as Drawl gave his warning. He counted three of them this time, sprinting out of the death sphere’s concealment. Tucking the gauss cannon tighter into his shoulder, Vance steadied the barrel and fired the gun for a second time. The head of the lead Kilvar exploded.

“Whoa,” said Carrington.

Gantry, Tagra, Charnos and Londivir also fired their guns and the outcome was gratifying, though the Kilvar were surely not impressed. Each shot from the Balon cannons produced an entry wound the size of a Daklan fist, and Vance imagined the exit holes would be the size of dinner plates. It gave him immense satisfaction to watch the three Kilvar fall down dead after only a handful of shots, rather than the usual dozens they’d shrug off before finally succumbing.

“I feel jealous,” said Private Mack as the platoon set off again. “Glad, but jealous.”

The final right-hand turn wasn’t far away and once more Vance slowed in order that he wouldn’t accidentally run into a bunch of waiting Kilvar.

“Clear,” he said.

Vance darted into the passage. He could see the closed door leading to the primary receiving station. It was only fifty metres away, and this sight of his goal spurred him to a greater speed.

“Lieutenant Gantry, if that oblex core needs to interface and break the security, I’d appreciate it if you’d send the instruction immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

Arriving at the door, Vance turned and found that all members of his platoon were within twenty metres.

“Interface formed,” said Gantry. “This door is on another security circuit. The facility must be well locked down.”

The oblex core wasn’t going to take long, but the whispering sound of the Lashar was much louder than before and Vance wondered how fast the aliens could run on those long legs.

A huge, bony shape emerged into sight at the end of the passage.

“There it is, sir,” said Drawl.

“I see it, soldier,” said Vance.

The Lashar hadn’t escaped the Big One. In fact, it seemed miraculous that the creature’s body was still functioning. It was almost completely charred and huge cracks had formed in the alien’s skin. One head was nearly torn off and it bounced against the Lashar’s chest with each stride the creature took. Vance also noted that his enemy’s left arm hung limp and useless.

“That’s got to hurt,” said Raimi.

“I have one rocket, Captain Vance,” said Ipanvir.

“Keep it,” said Vance.

The Lashar entered the corridor with the same unhurried movements it had shown during the last encounter. Vance aimed his Balon cannon at its second head and was about to fire, when another Lashar came into sight behind the first.

“Looks like it brought a friend,” Vance said. “Kill them.”

He grimaced and readied himself for battle.

Chapter Twenty

The Balon cannon was, to Vance, a weapon of great beauty. He shot the first Lashar in the head, knocking off the top of its skull. This time the alien flinched, but then it grinned at him. Vance stared it down while his gun reloaded. As soon as the humming sound died away from the weapon’s housing, he shot the Lashar for a second time, taking out another chunk of its head.

“Ipanvir, I’ve changed my mind about that rocket,” Vance said.

“Yes, Captain.” Coils whined. “Rocket out.”

The missile sped along the corridor at the same time as cannon shots from Gantry, Tagra and the others punched into the nearest Lashar’s chest. Each impact made it recoil, though it didn’t stop.

Ipanvir’s rocked detonated and fire engulfed both aliens. When he squinted, Vance could see their dark shapes within the plasma flames. They didn’t writhe in pain or try to escape. The Lashar simply advanced at the same pace as before.

The blast faded and, although they were burned, neither alien seemed any closer to death than they had been before the explosion. Vance doubted they were immune, just damned tough was all. Another five Balon cannon shots, along with a couple of dozen gauss rifle slugs smashed into the front Lashar. It was already a mess and now Vance could hardly believe it was holding together.

His next shot took the creature in the shoulder and its damaged arm was torn clean off.

“How’d you like that?” shouted Vance.

“The door security is breached, sir,” said Gantry. “Should I send the command to open it?”

The main receiving station only had one entrance, but it was possible the Kilvar had already entered before the platoon arrived. There again, Vance didn’t like having a solid object at his back in situations like this.

“Open it.”

Vance sensed the door opening behind him and he looked once over his shoulder. The main receiving station was at first glance a copy of the secondary receiving station into which the platoon had first arrived. Galtivon’s cage was on a dais, and the undulating darkness was within. Vance saw no sign of Kilvar, though Steigers and Carrington had taken it upon themselves to investigate more thoroughly.

“Clear,” said Steigers.

By this moment, Vance’s attention was once again on the Lashar. If he was any judge, the first one was about to fall dead in a heap. He also suspected that a few of the Balon cannon shots had passed right through the creature and struck the one behind, but he couldn’t see enough to be sure.

“Into the room,” Vance ordered.

The soldiers fell back. Those carrying Balon cannons came last, still shooting at the Lashar. The first alien was stumbling aimlessly now, both of its heads completely gone. It slumped to the floor, only thirty metres from the room and the second one stepped over the body. Vance sized it up – the creature had indeed suffered wounds from the cannons as well as the rocket burns, but it didn’t look ready to die just yet.

“Lieutenant Gantry, close the door,” said Vance.

“Yes, sir.”

It was as though the Lashar heard and understood the order. In the blinking of an eye, its slow confident pace became a jerky sprint. The creature hurtled along the passage at incredible speed. Vance swore when he saw how fast it was coming and fired his cannon into the Lashar’s stomach.

The door slid across the opening and the alien threw itself sideways at the narrowing gap. For a split second, Vance thought it was going to make it – that it would slip into the receiving station and wipe out his platoon. Instead, the closing door caught the Lashar squarely in its chest, pinning the creature to the doorframe.

The alien wasn’t killed by the immense crushing forces of the door and it placed both of its hands – each with six enormously long fingers ending in cracked, yellow nails – against the metal and pushed. For a short time, the alien struggled against the inevitable. Gauss shots tore into its body, while the door held it pinned. Try as it might, the Lashar could not break free.

Eventually, the punishment was too great and the alien slumped into stillness. Its two heads were smashed and pulped, and its body was full of holes.

“A lesson against overconfidence,” said Tagra.

Vance nodded. The two Lashar had thought to have some fun chasing down his platoon and now the aliens were mangled beyond recognition. Had they allowed the lesser Kilvar to attack, the alliance soldiers would now be dead. Instead, the enemy had screwed up and Vance intended to capitalize. Not that he’d come up with a solid plan yet.

With the immediate threat out of the way, Vance turned his attention to other matters, hoping that ideas would come to him.

“Lieutenant Gantry, take a squad and clear that piece of shit from the doorway. After that, keep a close watch. When the Kilvar breach the security, I want you to close that door as fast as they can open it.”

“Yes, sir. That tactic won’t work for long.”

“It’ll be better than nothing.” Vance pointed at his next target. “Sergeant Charnos – call up the internal sensor feeds on that console over there,” he said. “I want to know what’s happening outside this room – it might give Lieutenant Gantry some time to react. Once that’s done, I need you to figure out a way to get a comms message to the Hades.”

“Since the annihilator is not on the Balon network, I cannot send it a targeted comm, Captain Vance,” said Charnos. “I will have to send a wide area transmission to the Gharal system and hope the Hades picks it up.”

“So what are you waiting for?” asked Vance impatiently. “Get on with it.”

“Sir, the Kilvar attacked the Virix comms hub with plasma missiles,” said Charnos. “I cannot believe Captain Flint would remain in the Gharal system with our deaths so readily apparent.”

Vance had already considered the same. “What else do we have, Sergeant?” he asked.

“Nothing but hope,” said Charnos.

“Then hope is what we’ll rely on.”

Gantry had the oblex unit crack open the security on the main console in the receiving station, and, moments after, Charnos had the internal feeds up on the screens. The sights weren’t encouraging.

“The enemy have greater numbers within this facility than I first guessed,” said Charnos. He indicated one of the lower screens. “The Balon internal security allows me to overlay the detected Kilvar movements onto a map of the base.”

“Thousands of them,” said Vance, watching the red dots on the screen.

“And they are coming our way,” said Tagra, who was also at the console.

“Not all of them,” said Vance.

Even though Galtivon’s cage had arrived through the transit system many minutes before, many of the Kilvar weren’t moving. Given how efficient the enemy seemed to be at detecting their current targets, it was easy to believe they were infallible. Here was evidence they were not.

“Not all, but enough,” said Tagra.

“We were never going to hold them at bay, even if we were all packing one of these Balon cannons,” said Vance. “Sergeant Charnos – are you ready to send that comm to the Hades?”

“No, Captain. There are some additional steps required for me to access the real time transmitters.”

“How long?”

“Soon.”

Vance’s eyes went back to the map overlaid with Kilvar troops. If the enemy broke piecemeal into the primary receiving station, he was confident his platoon could hold them off, at least until the Balon gauss cannons ran out of ammunition. However, judging by the quantity of red dots on the map, there’d be more than a hundred Kilvar shock troops knocking on the door in the next couple of minutes.

“Damnit,” said Vance. “Even if we do send a real time comm to the Hades and even if the annihilator is only a short ternium drive jump away, the numbers don’t add up.”

“No, they do not, Captain Vance,” said Tagra. “We will be dead long before the Hades arrives.”

Vance had known ever since he’d first landed the shuttle on Virix that this road was going to be a tough one to travel. The journey wasn’t getting easier.

“Lieutenant Gantry, the enemy will be here soon,” said Vance. He glanced at the arrangement of his soldiers. They were in an arc facing the door, ready for whatever Kilvar might break through.

“Yes, sir. We might need those gauss cannons you’re keeping to yourselves over there.”

“And you’ll have them,” said Vance. He turned and, from his position by the console, he had a view of the door. “We can shoot from here.”

Gantry was strong enough to support his Balon cannon with one arm and he used the other to give a thumbs-up in acknowledgement.

Keeping his back to the console, Vance resumed his conversation with Tagra. “The way I see it, there’s only a single option open to us, Lieutenant.”

“We must use the Balon transport network again.”

“That’s right,” said Vance. “Only this time, I’d prefer it if we ended up somewhere that isn’t in Kilvar hands.”

“If such a transport node exists, we will encounter Balon there.”

“That seems likely.”

“You believe the Balon are the lesser of two evils,” said Tagra.

“I don’t believe that at all, Lieutenant.” Vance shrugged to show he was taking a gamble. “I hope they’re the lesser of two evils. If we can convince them that the Hades has a weapon capable of destroying Galtivon, maybe they’ll let us live long enough for Captain Flint to arrive at wherever it is we end up.”

“So I will not send a comm from this station,” said Charnos.

“No,” said Vance. “Find us a new destination – one where there are no Kilvar. Once you’ve pinpointed a location, we’ll go through the transport system again.”

“I may be able to identify a location which has not yet been attacked,” Charnos confirmed. “I will do so as quickly as I can.”

As the Daklan was speaking, the door opened and Vance saw grey shapes in the corridor beyond. He fired the gauss cannon and saw an explosion of flesh. Then, the door closed again.

“I guess those Kilvar weren’t expecting that door to open,” said Gantry. “Else they’d be inside by now.”

“And taking cannon shots to their ugly faces,” said Carrington.

“What can you do to keep that door shut, Lieutenant Gantry?” asked Vance.

“I discovered some new security scramblers in the oblex core, sir,” said Gantry. “I’ve just injected one into the door panel. Maybe it’ll slow those assholes down.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” said Vance sourly.

Just to prove him right, the door slid across its aperture and, although Gantry was fast enough to order it closed before it was even halfway open, one of the Kilvar burst into the receiving station. The alien soldier was struck by multiple gauss slugs and it toppled to the floor, having hardly managed three paces.

“I’ve tried a different security scrambler this time, sir,” said Gantry a few seconds later. He didn’t even attempt to sound hopeful. “I guess the Kilvar are breaking the encryption codes in a way that our own software isn’t designed to address. That’s why it’s happening so fast.”

“Just keep trying, Lieutenant,” said Vance.

Once again, the door opened and once again, Gantry instructed it to close in a split second. On this occasion, two Kilvar made it through the opening, while a third became trapped in the same way the Lashar had earlier.

Vance fired into the lead enemy’s head, causing its skull to detonate in a fountain of shards and dry brain matter. The creature fell headlong and lay still. In moments, the second Kilvar which had accompanied it was also on the floor.

“If two more enemy soldiers place themselves on the threshold next time the door opens, they will create a wide enough gap for the others to climb through,” said Tagra, spelling out a problem which Vance had also just identified.

Any lingering hope of a controlled withdrawal was dissipating.

“The writing is on the wall, Sergeant Charnos,” said Vance. “Pick a destination and do it now. We’re getting out of here.”

Charnos didn’t promise a better outcome if only he could be granted a few extra seconds to investigate the console. “I have chosen a place. The transit will activate in a short period of time.”

“How short?”

“I do not know.”

Gritting his teeth and mentally cursing aliens and their tech, Vance shouted his orders on the comms and then ran for the dais with Tagra and Charnos following. The door opened before he was halfway there and, like Tagra had predicted, several Kilvar dropped themselves flat across the threshold.

By the time Gantry had sent the next close instruction to the door, the damage had been done. The bodies of the enemy soldiers were crushed, but they prevented the heavy slab of alloy from sliding shut.

Vance saw movement in the passage, but he held onto his shot. Climbing the sloped sides of the dais, he found himself staring into Galtivon’s cage. The darkness inside seethed with a seemingly greater fervour than before, as if the creature understood full well how close it was to freedom.

“Move, move!” yelled Vance. A couple of the Daklan were still on the lower part of the floor and running hard for the dais. He shouted at them again, convinced the transport node would activate at any moment.

The Daklan made it onto the dais and no gateway was created. From his new vantage, Vance had a better sight into the passage and he put a slug into a Kilvar soldier as it attempted to squeeze through the opening. Gantry and Tagra followed up with shots of their own and the alien collapsed in the doorway. Eager hands behind pulled the body out of sight and another took its place, desperate to soak up righteous bullets in the cause of ascendancy.

As soon as the Balon cannon reloaded, Vance gave the alien soldier what it craved. Headshots with his new gun were proving particularly effective, and it was incredibly satisfying to blow the brains out of a Kilvar shock trooper before it could so much as grin in his direction.

“It’s busy out there,” said Raven. She fired her gauss rifle into the next Kilvar that tried to make it through the gap. “Real busy.”

The door opened again, causing an enemy soldier to lose its balance and fall over. What Vance saw in the passage was even worse than he’d imagined. At least a hundred of the Kilvar shock troops were outside, but further back at the intersection he could see a great, hulking shape. Whatever it was, this new creature was far more massive than the Lashar and Vance didn’t much wish to have a closer view.

“What’s keeping this transporter?” muttered Steigers.

“I set the activation to the shortest available time,” said Charnos. He shot his cannon into one of the four Kilvar soldiers who’d entered the room in the brief moment before Gantry had closed the door again.

“Doesn’t seem like it’s going to be short enough,” said Drawl. “Damn, I wish I had a few grenades.”

“Should I set the oblex core to create another zero-time—” began Lieutenant Gantry.

Before the man could finish his sentence, the transport network activated and the platoon was taken to a new place.

Chapter Twenty-One

This next receiving station was near-as-damnit identical to the last - at least so far as the tech went. Unfortunately, the station was additionally occupied by many living Balon – way more than two hundred of them, according to Vance’s snap estimate.

Without exception, these aliens carried gauss cannons which they trained on the alliance soldiers. The nearest line of Balon was no more than twenty metres from the base of the dais and forty metres from where Vance was standing in front of Galtivon’s cage.

“Easy,” said Vance on the comms. “Keep your guns low.”

Having recovered from the momentary disorientation which followed the transit, he knew straightaway that if this situation descended into combat, it was a battle he couldn’t win. To his left, a squad of Balon soldiers ran into sight from where they’d been hidden by Galtivon’s cage, and an even greater number came from the right. The aliens’ gait was fluid, yet rolling, and it was difficult to be sure if their best sprint would be slow and lumbering, or deceptively fast.

Vance could hear other footsteps coming rapidly from the back of the receiving station and he guessed the aliens had been expecting guests, such that they’d surrounded the entire dais. Maybe the Balon were on a high alert because the Kilvar were busily erecting death spheres around their planets, or perhaps the transport network had sent advance warning of a security breach, leading to this armed response.

Whatever the reason, Vance and his platoon were in trouble - unless the Balon were willing to talk.

“They don’t look happy, sir,” said Drawl. “In fact, they look like they hate us as much as the Kilvar hate us.”

Vance had the same feeling. He sensed the waves of hostility coming from the Balon and his instincts told him the lives of everyone in his platoon were on a knife edge.

“Their species is in the shit, soldier,” said Vance. “I’m not surprised they aren’t happy to see us, or this cage either.”

“Just be careful, sir,” said Steigers.

Vance had been in many high-pressure situations before and he wasn’t about to let this one get to him. He walked slowly and carefully towards the edge of the dais, trying not to look threatening.

“Greetings,” he said loudly, allowing his language module to convert the word into something the Balon would understand.

Not one of the aliens answered and none approached. They remained stock still, their cannons ready to turn the platoon soldiers into bloody pulp. Now they were upright, instead of dead on the ground, the Balon looked vastly more menacing.

Vance stared directly at one of the aliens – right into its six eyes – and, despite all the first contact training which told him not to read too much into his natural reactions when confronted by a non-human or Daklan, he knew these creatures were not in any way friendly.

Not only that, but Vance got the impression the alien was looking through him, as if it didn’t want to meet his eyes. He doubted it was scared of a confrontation, so wondered if he was imagining things.

The Ancidium warned Captain Flint about the Balon, and now I’ve brought my platoon right into their grasp. Vance snarled inwardly. And what choice did I have?

Like the other receiving stations, this one had only a single entrance. The door was behind the ranks of Balon, and it opened. Yet more of the aliens entered - on and on they came, in their dozens. This group headed left, around the already gathered Balon, and then turned towards the dais.

The column didn’t slow, and Vance guessed that the alien at the front was an officer of some kind, though it wore no obvious insignia. The company of Balon marched up the slope about thirty metres from Vance, and without any indication they were concerned about the armed alliance soldiers.

At the top, the aliens headed directly for the cage. There was plenty of room on the dais, but a couple of the Daklan got out of the way before they were shot, trampled or simply shoved aside.

Vance walked quickly to intercept the column of Balon troops, keeping his gun barrel pointed towards the ground.

“We wish to talk,” he said, loudly enough to be heard. His language module converted the words into an unpleasant scraping, clicking sound. The Balon didn’t stop and, as he hurried towards them, Vance felt his patience fraying.

“What are they doing, sir?” asked Carrington.

“They’ve come to inspect the goods,” said Drawl, motioning carefully with his gun towards the prison cage. “And they don’t seem to give a damn about us.”

Vance caught up with the Balon and walked alongside. He watched the nearest alien for a moment. Its jointed carapace adjusted to its gait with natural perfection, producing hardly a sound as the creature strode across the dais. The aliens paid him no heed whatsoever.

At the cage, the Balon officer came to a halt and his troops stopped with him. Vance approached to five metres. The bars of the cage were close by and he felt Galtivon’s interest. Vance couldn’t shake the feeling that the creature was interested in him rather than anything else that was happening. It put him on edge.

“We can help you destroy this creature,” Vance said, pointing towards the cage.

The lead Balon said nothing and didn’t even turn his way. Instead it stared directly into Galtivon’s prison.

Vance tried again. “My species is also fighting the Kilvar. Together, we can defeat them.”

The Balon officer gave no indication it had heard Vance’s words, and neither did the other alien soldiers.

“It’s like we don’t even exist, sir,” said Raven. She was a proud soldier and the anger was stark in her voice.

“Let me handle this, Private,” Vance warned.

Although he spoke calmly, he was feeling that same anger himself. “Why won’t you talk to me?” Vance demanded. He stepped closer to the officer and, though the Balon still wouldn’t look his way, they tensed almost imperceptibly. Not wishing to be killed, Vance didn’t take another step.

The Balon see us as a lesser species. So much so that they won’t even acknowledge our existence.

Vance didn’t know if he was correct, since he only had this limited experience from which to draw. Still, he felt like he was onto something.

“This will not end well for us, Captain Vance,” said Tagra. “The Balon will kill us.”

“Definitely, sir,” said Gantry. “If these Balon thought we were the shit on the bottom of their shoes, at least they’d look to see what they needed to scrape off. These bastards can’t even bring themselves to do that. We’re nothing to them.”

Tagra and Gantry both had good instincts and Vance trusted them.

“That’s what I think too,” said Vance. “If these assholes won’t even say hello, how the hell are we meant to negotiate?”

His anger became a cold fury. Although he and his platoon had escaped death from the Kilvar, it seemed the Balon would soon deliver that same unwanted outcome. Or maybe, Vance thought, he was completely misreading the situation and in the next few seconds, a Balon diplomat would come through that door with a tray of cucumber sandwiches in one hand, and a peace treaty in the other.

Vance wasn’t buying it.

Even if I thought the Balon might turn out friendly, this isn’t a risk I can take. My duty is to the alliance and if that means I have to do some shitty things, then I’ll wear the brown stuff with pride.

In a moment of utmost clarity, Vance knew exactly what he had to do.

“Lieutenant Gantry, instruct the oblex core to break the security on this cage.”

Gantry had fought with Vance for so long that he didn’t even question the order. “Yes, sir.”

“Galtivon will kill us,” said Tagra.

“It’ll definitely kill these Balon,” said Vance.

“You believe our time in the chamber will protect us?”

“If it doesn’t, we’ll be as dead as everything else on this world.”

“And Galtivon will be free, Captain Vance.”

“Not if I can help it.” Vance smiled thinly. “Lieutenant Gantry, has the core broken the cage security yet?”

“It happened as you were speaking there, sir. I can open the cage upon your order.”

Movement diverted Vance’s attention. The lead Balon had turned from the cage and it was talking to the soldiers – presumably officers of a lower rank – in the front row of the column.

“The cage is secure,” it said. “However, it must be transported from here. Make the arrangements.”

“It will happen, [translation unknown],” said a second Balon. Vance guessed the unknown word was the designated rank of the lead officer.

A third alien spoke and its sharp teeth snicked together as it formed the sounds. “What of the organisms, [translation unknown]? That one nearby is capable of speech, though its words were filth in my ears. Perhaps we should take them to the [translation unknown] so that they might be [translation unknown].”

“I see no use for the organisms, [translation unknown],” said another Balon. “I cannot tolerate their presence.”

Whatever the outcome of the conversation between these Balon, Vance wanted no part of it.

“Lieutenant Gantry, instruct Oblex#40 to follow Galtivon at a range of five metres and to create a permanent zero-time field with a fifteen-metre radius, ten minutes from now.”

“One moment, sir…done.”

“Now open the cage.”

“Cage door unlocked,” said Gantry.

The cage door racketed open, clashing violently back on its hinges. Galtivon surged from its prison, flowing like hot tar through a pipe.

Now, the Balon assholes turned, and damn right they looked. This was an opponent they couldn’t ignore. To their credit, the alien soldiers didn’t budge an inch, until their commanding officer shouted an order. Then, they fell back, spreading out at the same time and aiming their guns at the Shadow of Kilvus.

“Hold steady,” said Vance on the comms.

Galtivon was huge and it took several seconds to emerge fully from the cage. The Balon shot it many times with their gauss cannons, for all the good it did.

When the Shadow of Kilvus had completely escaped its prison, Vance felt a pulse of death magic. Not only did he feel it, but he saw it too, expanding like a rippling shockwave of darkness, which filled the room and vanished into the walls. Vance grunted in pain at the intensity of it, but he didn’t die. Glancing behind him, he saw to his relief that not one of his platoon members had succumbed either.

For the Balon, it was a different story. Every single alien in the room keeled over at once, their bodies thumping heavily to the ground. A few of the Balon cannons discharged as their owners fell, and a gauss slug pinged off the cage bars near Vance’s head.

Now that it was free, Galtivon changed from the amorphous mass which had been trapped in the prison. Appendages grew and writhed, before withering and then extending elsewhere from the creature’s dark form. As he watched, Vance was given the impression that Galtivon couldn’t settle on an appearance, like chaos was so intertwined with its existence that to hold to a single shape was anathema to it.

But then, it drew together. Thick legs sprouted, and after came a torso and arms. Finally, a head appeared on top and Vance saw that it had a face, which resembled that of the other Kilvar. Empty eyes stared and the creature’s mouth was lined with fangs, cruelly sharp like pieces of obsidian.

Vance stepped slowly away, unable to take his eyes from the Shadow of Kilvus. The alien’s anger beat against him, and its endless, insatiable hunger was the longing of ages.

For a moment, Vance thought that perhaps he and his platoon had escaped the creature’s attention, or that it held some kind of twisted gratitude that the alliance soldiers had freed it from its cage.

Neither was true.

Galtivon’s head twisted on its thick neck and Vance felt those dead eyes resting upon him. The alien knew curiosity of a sort, but the anger remained, along with emotions Vance would never understand.

“Sir, should we open fire?” asked Steigers.

“Don’t bother, Private. Guns aren’t getting us out of this.”

“I can activate the zero-time, sir,” said Gantry.

“Hold,” said Vance. He had a plan and it wouldn’t work if any Balon were left on the base.

Galtivon gazed at Vance for a time that was measured only in moments, but which felt like much longer. At almost ten metres tall and heavyset with it, the creature loomed over him, impossibly huge and threatening.

It sent out another death pulse, this one stronger than the last – so strong that, for a brief moment, the room went completely dark. Vance felt a ringing in his ears and a pounding in his skull. He didn’t die.

“You piece of shit,” he said, repeating his insult from earlier.

The curiosity Vance sensed in Galtivon became more intense.

It probably hasn’t come across many species that aren’t dead this far into a confrontation.

A consciousness plunged into Vance’s mind. It was vast and terrible, made up from chaos, with thin chains of order the only anchors preventing Galtivon from descending into a state of unfettered savagery.

Through Vance’s head this consciousness rampaged, seeking to rip away his sanity. With his teeth clenched and his jaw set, he stood firm. The Raklivian had attempted the same, and Vance had lived through that tempering. Now, he was hardened.

How long his ordeal lasted, Vance didn’t know. Galtivon tore at the strands of his existence, searching for a weakness. Eventually, it would find that weakness, Vance knew. The Shadow of Kilvus was too strong for him – much too strong. Soon, his resistance would crumble and his life energy would be absorbed into Galtivon like that of billions before him.

As Vance weathered the storm, he in turn saw something of his enemy. Galtivon betrayed glimpses of its own desires. Vance saw a monument – pillars rising high above the surface of a distant planet, and moons shimmering white and yellow.

And then Galtivon withdrew from his mind, severing the link. Exhaustion swept through Vance and his legs threatened to buckle. He held himself upright, too proud to fall to his knees, and watched the giant which stood over him.

With no more sound than a whispering forest, Galtivon turned and strode from the dais, its gait uneven, like this humanoid form was unfamiliar to the creature. For a few seconds, it stood before the exit, while its limbs and head shrank away to leave the seething darkness which had once been trapped in the cage. A moment later, Galtivon passed through the solid door and disappeared from sight.

The pursuing Oblex#40 was blocked by the door, and it floated in the air a few metres from the exit.

“Lieutenant Gantry?” asked Vance. His voice sounded far more normal than he’d expected.

“The oblex core should crack the security automatically, sir.”

As had been proven time and again, the Balon security was no match for the brute force of an oblex core. The exit door slid open and Oblex#40 sped through, tailing Galtivon like it had been instructed.

Vance watched it go, and the main thought in his head was that he might have been responsible for the most catastrophically bad decision in alliance history.

The next ten minutes would tell.

Chapter Twenty-Two

For several hours, the Hades had coasted through space, its engines a muted drone that would have been comforting at any other time. Captain William Flint’s eyes kept going back to the sensor feed of Virix, though the planet was much too far away for the annihilator’s sensors to detect anything of the conflict between the Balon and the Kilvar.

Whatever secrets the planet yet held would have to remain untold. Flint swore under his breath and then announced the decision he should have made earlier.

“There’s no reason for us to stay here any longer,” he said. “Captain Vance is gone, and there’s nothing for us in the Gharal system. It’s time we returned to the Ancidium.”

“Fleet Admiral Recker might be pissed that we’ve been offline for so long,” said Maddox.

Flint had ordered the Hades to reject inbound comms from base while he waited for a sign from Captain Vance. If Recker couldn’t make contact with the annihilator, he couldn’t order its return to the Ancidium. Flint would deal with the consequences of his actions when the time came.

“We owed Captain Vance a debt,” said Larson. “The Fleet Admiral knows this as well as anyone.” She looked Flint’s way and smiled. “He’d have done the same thing himself.”

Flint nodded – he had no doubt that Larson would have been correct a decade ago, but the Recker of now wasn’t the same man who’d fought in the Lavorix wars. The Fleet Admiral had far greater responsibilities, and they might force him to ignore his personal sense of loyalty.

“Should I ready the gateway, sir?” asked Fredericks.

“Please do, Lieutenant.” The taste of defeat was worse than chewing on the sole of a Kilvar boot and Flint felt like he was choking on it. “And remove the comms block – it’s time I had a word with Admiral Recker.”

“The block is gone, sir,” said Burner.

“Sir!” yelled Becerra almost immediately after. “I have Captain Vance on the comms!”

“You’re shitting me?” said Flint, twisting in his seat. “Of course you’re not shitting me. Bring him through on the open channel!”

Vance sounded distant, as if he were a ghost speaking from the land of the dead.

“Captain Flint,” he said. “Requesting pickup for my platoon, sir.”

“It’s good to hear from you, Captain Vance. We thought you were dead,” said Flint. “Where are you? There’s a chance the Balon and Kilvar are still fighting, so we might need to prepare before our pickup run – assuming you’re not in immediate danger.”

“We’re no longer on Virix, sir. Sergeant Charnos is sending you our location data on a separate channel – we’ve extracted that data from the local comms network and we’re hoping you can tie it in with a planet on the Hades’ star charts. The Balon called the place Razk-Kaj, though I reckon I’m pronouncing it all wrong.”

“I’ve received those coordinates, sir,” said Burner. “I’ll find out if we have a match on our charts.”

“What happened, Captain Vance?” asked Flint.

“It’s a long story, sir,” said Vance. “The Balon have a transport network and we followed it, taking Galtivon with us. And—” he hesitated. “I let Galtivon out of its cage. It killed the Balon and I thought we could trap it in zero-time.”

“The plan failed,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir. I screwed up. A Kilvar warship arrived – it was the Cadavax - and Galtivon escaped. At least we believe it escaped – there’s none of us can feel it here on the planet any longer.”

Flint closed his eyes. Whatever circumstances had led to this, he had the utmost trust that Vance had tried his damnedest to do what was right. “Sometimes things just don’t work out like we want them to.”

“I blew it, sir,” said Vance simply. “The thing is—” He grunted, like he wanted to say something else, but wasn’t sure if it was going to make him sound stupid.

“What?” asked Flint. “Tell me.”

“Galtivon…it invaded my mind. I don’t know why it chose me - it must have seen something that caught its attention. Either that or it didn’t like me calling it a piece of shit. Anyways, while that creature was trying to rip out my life energy, I’d guess we were linked for a moment. I saw things…pillars…a monument on a planet somewhere.”

“That’s where the ascendancy will happen,” said Flint. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt this was what Vance had seen.

“Yes, sir. That’s what I took it to be.”

“What else did you see?” asked Flint. “A landmark? A feature of the sky which might help us narrow down the location?”

“Four moons in the sky, sir. One of them so close it was almost like I could touch it.”

“Was there anything more?”

“I’ve racked my brains, sir,” said Vance. “The memories are clear and at the same time they’re limited – like I’m remembering Galtivon’s own memories.”

“Sir, I’ve pinpointed Captain Vance’s location!” said Burner. “Seems like the Lavorix picked up the name from the Balon at some point, since they called it Razk-Kaj as well.”

“Best not think too hard about how that happened,” said Larson.

Burner gave a cynical laugh. “No, best not. Anyway, I’ve passed the coordinates to Lieutenant Fredericks.”

“Target coordinates received,” Fredericks confirmed. “I can activate the gateway warmup at any time you choose, sir.”

“Wait!” said Flint. “Captain Vance, what is my warship heading into?”

“I can’t promise you it’s safe, sir, but I can tell you what I’ve seen,” said Vance. “When all the Balon were killed and it was clear Galtivon wasn’t in zero-time, we took a shuttle and flew it away. We’ve passed over what I guess is a bunch of mineworks and some warship wreckage that’s still burning hot – probably the outcome of an engagement between the Cadavax and the local Balon fleet. Other than that, there’s nothing that makes me think this is an important part of the Balon empire. If I was a betting man, I’d say this is a frontier world.”

“Has that shuttle detected the presence of a local battle network, Captain Vance?” asked Flint.

“We’ve kept our heads down, sir,” said Vance. “And that means keeping off the comms as much as possible. For the avoidance of doubt, the Balon are in no way friendly. If I can offer you advice on the matter, I’d suggest you shoot first and ask questions later.”

“Thank you, Captain Vance, I’ll do as you say,” said Flint. “And you’ve given me what I need. It doesn’t sound like the Hades will exit the gateway right into the middle of a thousand-warship engagement.”

“No, sir,” said Vance. “Not unless the Balon and Kilvar fleets arrive before you get here.”

“I’m giving the order to create a gateway to your location, Captain Vance,” said Flint. He turned and indicated that Fredericks should start the warmup. “The pickup should be a fast one unless the Hades runs into something unexpected.”

“This Balon shuttle is the right size to dock with one of the Hades’ primary bays, sir,” said Vance. “Assuming Bay 1 is still empty, that’s the place we’ll aim for.”

“We’ll be with you as soon as we can, Captain Vance,” said Flint, “Lay low, just like you’ve been doing.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you have to think hard about what you saw. The Kilvar are ready to ascend, but if we make it to the gathering place soon enough, maybe we can disrupt their plans.”

It was a scant hope and Flint knew it. He closed the channel to Vance.

“I need to talk with Admiral Recker,” Flint said. “We’re going to require a lot more firepower than this one warship.”

“I have the Fleet Admiral, sir,” said Garrett, only a few seconds later.

“Bring him into the open channel.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Captain Flint,” said Recker. He cut to the chase, speaking before Flint could even return a greeting of his own. “We are in trouble. The Ancidium has gone offline. I am only able to speak to you because we’ve patched our own comms hardware into the spaceship’s external hull arrays. We can move freely within the vessel, but the critical systems are unavailable.”

Flint swore. “A result of the intrusions Alsar-9 reported?”

“Yes. There is much to tell, but that telling must wait. We are working to recover the Ancidium. Perhaps we will be successful.”

“This could not have come at a worse time, sir,” said Flint. “Captain Vance has been given clues as to where the Kilvar ascendancy will happen, though we are still trying to identify the precise location. With the Ancidium, we might have stood a chance.”

Now it was Recker’s turn to swear. “Here is the opportunity I thought would never come, and it arrives while our primary warship is offline.”

“If not the Ancidium then our other warships, sir. Everything we can muster.”

“Where are you located, Captain Flint?” asked Recker. “Is it still in Gharal?”

“Yes, sir.” Flint glanced at the gateway timer. “In a few minutes we will transit to a different place – to extract Captain Vance and his platoon.”

“And is that place near to alliance territory?” asked Recker.

“No, sir.” Suddenly, Flint understood what the other man was leading to. “Damn - the only warships in the alliance fleet fitted with gateway hardware are in the Ancidium’s bays.”

“That’s right, Captain Flint,” said Recker bitterly. “Using Gharal as a reference, we have nothing which can make it there within the next three months. Maybe even longer – your journey to Balon space took you a long way from home.”

“Lieutenant Burner, is the pickup place for Captain Vance anywhere closer to alliance territory?” asked Flint.

“No, sir.”

“The ascendancy itself might be happening near enough that—" said Flint. He cursed. “Assuming we can figure out where it is, there’s not a chance we’ll be able to get our fleets out there in time.”

“I’m certain you’re right,” said Recker. “I won’t even pretend I’m hopeful.”

“So, we’re on our own,” said Flint.

“Has it ever been different?” asked Recker, his question heavy with memories.

“No, sir, I guess it hasn’t,” said Flint. “We’ll pick up Captain Vance and find out where the ascendancy is taking place, even if I have to personally wring the details out of his brain. After that, we’ll pay the Kilvar a visit.”

“This is our last chance, Captain Flint.”

“I know it, sir.”

The gateway timer was almost finished and Flint was ready to bid his farewells, when he thought of another question. “What about Alsar-9, sir?”

“Alsar-9 no longer responds to the internal comms – we think it went offline with the rest of the spaceship.”

Flint wasn’t so sure. “Alsar-9 told me it wasn’t a computer.”

“And you believe it?”

“For what it’s worth, yes sir, I do. I think it’s a being, a consciousness or whatever you want to call it, and it inhabits that sphere. If the Ancidium is offline, maybe Alsar-9 can help if you pay it a visit.”

“I’ll do just that.”

No sooner had Recker spoken than the gateway opened. Darkness engulfed the Hades and the spaceship was carried across unimaginable distances to the place where Vance and the others awaited rescue.

As he shrugged off the much-diminished trauma of gateway travel, Flint briefly reflected that it was perhaps for the best that events were moving so quickly. When the odds were as long as these, it paid not to think too hard about what the future would hold.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The gateway had been targeted at a million kilometres from Razk-Kaj and that gave Flint enough distance to put the engines to good use. The Hades tore away from its arrival place, its engines having remained in superstress for longer than any other warship he’d commanded.

“Near scans finished!” said Burner a few moments after the sensors came online. “Helping out on the fars.”

“Lieutenant Becerra, find that planet,” said Flint.

“On it, sir.”

“No anomalies on the exium modules so far,” said Fredericks, as the velocity gauge topped nine thousand kilometres per second.

“I’ve located Razk-Kaj, sir!” said Becerra. “It’s at one-point-five million klicks.”

An error of a half million kilometres didn’t seem too bad, considering how far the Hades had travelled.

“Scan the surface,” said Flint. “What’s holding up the far scans?”

“Nothing, sir,” said Garrett. “The fars are now done and clear.”

“Make contact with Captain Vance immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

Flint couldn’t bring himself to relax. The Balon were technologically advanced and this was their territory. He didn’t want to run into any surprises.

“Razk-Kaj looks pretty much how Captain Vance described it, sir,” said Becerra. “Negligible atmosphere, low temperature, rocks. Nothing out of the ordinary. It’s on the feed.”

“No sign of a facility,” said Flint.

“Not this side of the planet, sir.”

“Captain Vance is on the comms, sir,” said Garrett. “He’s holding the shuttle in a canyon near the planet’s south pole.”

“Can we trace his comms transmission back to source?” asked Flint.

“That’s a Balon transport as you know, sir,” said Garrett. “There’ll be a way to make our systems speak to their systems, but that might take time to implement.”

Flint adjusted course, aiming the Hades directly for the planet. “Tell Captain Vance we’re on our way. Once we’re near enough to Razk-Kaj, he’ll have to leave that canyon and head out into space. We’ll locate him on the sensors and come in for the pickup.”

“Yes, sir, I have made Captain Vance aware.”

“And keep scanning for signs of Balon or Kilvar,” said Flint.

His eyes went back to the feed and his hands gripped the controls tightly. Flint was enormously relieved that Vance had lived and he fervently hoped that nothing unforeseen would interfere with this extraction.

And Captain Vance holds the key to everything.

“One hundred and fifty seconds to planetary impact at our current velocity,” said Larson.

“I’ll try to slow down before that happens, Commander.”

The planet grew larger on the bulkhead screen and the details, such as they were, became ever more distinct. Razk-Kaj had nothing which made it interesting, just like most other planets in the universe. Of course, it was impossible to spot vital natural resources with the naked eye, and – if the facility Vance had spotted was indeed a mine – the Balon had found something here that was worth having.

“Distance to Razk-Kaj: half a million klicks,” said Becerra. “Fifty-five seconds.”

“Inform Captain Vance that it’s time he left shelter,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir.” Becerra was quiet for a moment. “Captain Vance acknowledges.”

“Still scanning for the shuttle,” said Burner. “Got it!”

One of the enhanced feeds was of a grey line snaking across the planet’s surface. A fast-moving speck emerged and it climbed vertically into the sky. Burner applied further enhancement and the transport’s outline became clear. Like most shuttles it was nothing remarkable, being little more than an elongated 120-metre box with a sloping nose.

“No sign of Balon or Kilvar, sir,” said Garrett. “Just that shuttle.”

“I’ve informed Captain Vance that we have a visual on his spacecraft,” said Becerra. “He’ll hold course until we tell him otherwise.”

The Hades closed the distance rapidly and Flint held his deceleration to the last possible moment. He didn’t bother matching velocities with the shuttle for an in-transit docking manoeuvre – not when the Balon and alliance computers couldn’t speak to each other. Instead, he simply brought the Hades to a halt directly in the path of the approaching transport.

Vance was an experienced pilot and he flew his vessel straight into the Shuttle Bay 1 docking tunnel. A few seconds later, a green light on Flint’s console told him that the transport was gravity clamped to the docking platform.

“We’re getting out of here,” said Flint.

Soon, the Hades was travelling at ten thousand kilometres per second in the opposite direction to Razk-Kaj.

“We made it,” said Maddox. “And without a shot being fired.”

“I’ve detected a huge ternium wave on the far side of the planet,” said Eastwood. “The formation of the wave indicates it’s being created by many smaller vessels rather than a single big one.”

“The Balon cavalry,” said Larson.

“I hope I didn’t speak too soon about no shots being fired,” said Maddox.

“We’re already a long way from Razk-Kaj, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “I’d say we made the pickup by the skin of our teeth.” He touched his finger on the tactical screen. “No point in taking chances. Readying a mode 3 jump.”

He sent the Hades into a short-range transit, relying on the ternium suppressors to hide the annihilator’s signature from any Balon who might have been looking this way. The stacked transitions were uncomfortable, but nothing more.

The Hades emerged from its SRT almost at a standstill and Flint pushed the controls along their guide slots. The velocity gauge sped upwards.

“The Balon must have a massive fleet if they can divert so many of their warships to a planet like this,” said Burner.

“Could be that Razk-Kaj is more important to them than we realised,” said Maddox.

Flint had a different idea. “Or maybe the Kilvar have withdrawn from all engagements in order to muster for the ascendancy, and that’s freed up the Balon fleet.” He cursed. “I’ll bet that’s what it is.”

“We should speak with Captain Vance, sir,” said Larson. “Immediately.”

“Yes,” said Flint. “Lieutenant Becerra – tell Captain Vance to come directly to the bridge.”

“I’ve passed on your orders, sir,” said Becerra.

A sprinted journey from Shuttle Bay 1 would only take a few minutes and, when the velocity gauge once again touched on ten thousand kilometres per second, Flint let the Hades coast while he waited for Vance to arrive.

“Four moons in a sky and a monument on the ground,” said Burner. “I wouldn’t say that could be exactly anywhere, but this monument is the only feature that gives us something potentially unique to go on.”

“And I assume we don’t have anything in our databanks that might tie in with Captain Vance’s description?”

“No, sir,” said Burner. “We’re carrying a full copy of both the Lavorix and alliance star charts and there’s no match. There are plenty of worlds with four moons, but for all we know, the place Captain Vance saw might have more than four, with some not visible at the moment he viewed the sky.”

“Is it possible the Kilvar are heading somewhere that isn’t even on the star charts?” asked Flint.

“Probably not,” said Burner. “The Lavorix have done a good job of mapping every solar system the Ancidium’s sensor arrays have detected. They didn’t visit a fraction of those places, but they’re on the map.”

Flint drummed his fingers. “We’ve seen the Kilvar use tenixite converters to power their gateways and, as far as we’re aware, they don’t have a warship which is fitted with its own gateway hardware.”

“I get what you’re saying, sir,” said Burner. “If the Cadavax is going from A to B on its ternium drive, its destination might be nearby, at least in comparison to how far it’s possible to travel by gateway.”

“Or the Cadavax might be on its way to another gateway planet – like the one they had in Berongar,” said Larson.

“I remember that Berongar was marked as a high priority location in the Lavorix star charts,” Flint mused. “And one the Ancidium chose not to attack on the basis that the losses might be too great to bear.”

“We’re putting together bits and pieces, sir,” said Burner. “But I don’t think they’re going to be enough for us to produce a short list of places worth exploring.”

“I’m not sure we have time for exploration anyway, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “I’d much prefer it if we hit the nail straight on the head.”

“Me too, sir. I’ll keep looking.”

“Let’s hope Captain Vance remembers something more,” said Flint.

A couple of minutes later, Vance entered the bridge. He’d come alone and was carrying a massive cannon of a type Flint hadn’t seen before.

“Balon gun,” said Vance in explanation. “And it’s damned heavy.” He lowered it to the bridge floor as if he’d only just noticed the weight.

“You know what I’m about to ask you, Captain Vance,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir. I’ve played that memory through my head a thousand times and I can’t think of anything that might help narrow down the location.”

“There must be drugs in the medical bay,” said Larson softly. “Maybe something that can help you to see those memories differently.”

“No, ma’am. I’ve already spoken to Corporal Hendrix and she doesn’t think there’s anything that will bring out a memory from nothing,” said Vance. “I remember what I saw as clear as day – it’s not fuzzy like dreams sometimes are. There’s a planet and four moons. The ground was kind of red and there were mountains in the distance.”

“What did the monument look like?” asked Flint.

“I made drawing of it,” said Vance. He reached into his leg pocket and withdrew a clumsily folded sheet of paper. “Here you go, sir.”

“I won’t ask where you got a pencil and paper from,” said Flint.

“Private Drawl, sir,” said Vance.

Flint opened the paper and stared at a drawing which had been produced with surprising care and detail, given the circumstances.

“Three curved pillars and sphere at the top,” said Flint.

“The sphere was just floating, sir. Like it was held by gravity fields.”

“Are these lines on the sphere meant to be shading, or something else?”

“Not shading, sir. They were symbols.”

Flint peered closely at the paper. “Is your drawing of the symbols accurate?”

“As accurate as I could make them while I was on a shuttle hiding in a canyon, sir.”

“Think you can draw them again, only bigger?”

“Private Drawl only had one sheet of paper, sir, and I can’t think where I’d find any more.”

“I’ll sign you into that spare console over there,” said Flint, pointing to the empty space next to Lieutenant Fredericks. “The modelling software should allow you to free draw on the screen with just your fingertip.”

“Sounds technical, but I’ll give it a try, sir.”

Flint remote signed Vance into the console. “Lieutenant Fredericks will show you what to do.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you think those symbols are going to help us, sir?” asked Larson.

“I don’t know,” said Flint. “We don’t have anything else to go on.”

“I’ve drawn them again, sir,” said Vance, a short time later. “Only bigger this time.”

“I’ve helped Captain Vance send them to your console, sir,” said Fredericks. “They look like alien mumbo-jumbo to me.”

Flint opened the received file and he stared at the image.

“You look disappointed,” said Larson.

“I thought maybe they’d stir something in my mind.”

Larson leaned across to see the images on Flint’s screen. She grimaced. “Not nearly enough for our language computers to analyse.”

“I’m sorry if this is a dead end, sir,” said Vance.

“Dead end or not, it isn’t your fault,” said Flint, not taking his eyes off the symbols. He had an idea. “Get me a channel to Admiral Recker.”

“Yes, sir,” said Becerra.

Recker never turned down the important calls and he was on the comms in moments.

“What progress, Captain Flint?”

“We don’t yet know where the ascendancy is taking place, sir,” said Flint. “But we may be onto something. Did you contact Alsar-9 since we last spoke?”

“I’m on my way to the sphere room as we speak,” said Recker. “The internal shuttle is just ahead.”

“I need to speak with Alsar-9, sir,” said Flint. “I’ll have one of my comms officers send you some images – they’re symbols on the Kilvar monument. I have a feeling that if we can learn their meaning, we’ll be able to locate the planet.”

“I’ll keep the comms channel open,” said Recker. “I’m in the shuttle.”

Flint heard the humming noise of the car as it sped through the Ancidium’s interior and he used these few seconds to bring Recker up to date with developments.

“It feels like we’re being manipulated,” said Recker. “By who or what, I don’t know, but they pull our strings and laugh when we dance.”

“I’m not so sure, sir,” said Flint. He considered his next words. “I think everything is out of control. The Kilvar might be about to overthrow the old order, and the results of that will echo throughout the universe.”

“There’s much we’ll never know, and it chews at my insides,” said Recker. He laughed, and it almost sounded genuine. “Or maybe I’m better off ignorant.”

The background noise of the Ancidium’s shuttle car died away.

“I’ve arrived at the sphere room,” said Recker. “Let’s hope Alsar-9 is in a talking mood now. I’ll put this channel on hold for a moment while I see if I get a response.”

For what seemed like a long time, the comms went quiet, except for a faint squealing sound which was the only indication of distance. Then, text appeared on Flint’s central console screen.

Alsar-9> The Kilvar have discovered something which was not expected.

Flint typed.

Flint> What have they found?

Alsar-9> An artifact of power. An object which was an unknown to those who purported to know everything. The universe hides many secrets.

Flint> I never did like riddles.

Alsar-9> The Kilvar have located something which predates everything. The symbols you have found explain much, though now is not the time for you to hear of the past.

Flint very much did want to hear of the past, but he’d learned enough about Alsar-9 to know when further questions would only lead to frustration. Besides, time was pressing.

Flint> I need to find this artifact. It is where the ascendancy will take place.

Alsar-9> So much hubris and such a failing to understand or to predict.

The sphere entity wasn’t talking about Flint, of that he was sure.

Flint> I will stop the ascendancy.

Alsar-9> I hope that will come to pass.

The response was an unusual display of emotion from Alsar-9, and that had Flint more worried than anything else.

Flint> Where is the artifact?

Alsar-9> I will tell you. I do not know if you will survive the discovery.

Flint> What does that mean?

Alsar-9> Will the answer divert you from your chosen course?

Flint> No.

Alsar-9> Then you will not benefit from knowing.

Flint> Tell me the location.

Alsar-9> Very well.

Flint’s console pinged quietly to indicate a new file had arrived. He opened it and found it contained what he needed. A moment later, he’d forwarded the data to his comms and propulsion teams.

Flint> Thank you.

Alsar-9 didn’t respond, just like Flint knew it wouldn’t. He spoke briefly to Admiral Recker and then cut the channel.

“Well folks,” Flint said, addressing his crew. “We’ve got our destination and it’s more than four months journey time from the next closest alliance warship. That leaves only us. So let’s see what we can do to screw up the Kilvar’s thousand-year-old plans to turn themselves into a god.”

“It’s come down to this,” said Larson.

“There’s always that moment, Commander. We’ve arrived at ours.” Flint twisted in his seat. “Lieutenant Fredericks, enter those details into our navigation system. We’re heading to Endurus.”

“Yes, sir.”

The course was set and Flint’s mind wouldn’t be still. After what seemed like a lifetime of conflict, a final showdown with the Kilvar might well be in the offing. The only trouble was, the enemy had thousands of warships at their disposal, and Flint had only one.

He’d fought his way through hard missions before. Flint smiled inwardly. This one was going to be the toughest of them all.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The gateway hardware produced a faraway whine, so faint that Flint couldn’t be sure if he was imagining it. In the first minute of the warmup, he told the crew of his exchange with Alsar-9. They had questions and not much time in which to ask them.

“In a little under seven minutes, we’ll be fifty million klicks from the coordinates we’ve been provided for Endurus,” Flint said. “First things first - what information do we have on the planet? Where will it be on its orbital track? Will the planet in fact be a billion klicks away and on the far side of its star?”

“We have precisely zero information on the planet or its solar system,” said Burner. “In fact, it isn’t shown on the Lavorix star charts.”

“So, Alsar-9 knew where Endurus was located, but the information was kept secret from the Lavorix,” said Flint.

“That tells a tale of its own, sir,” said Larson.

“A tale of which we’ve only heard the tiniest fraction,” said Flint. He wished there’d been more time to question Alsar-9. The sphere entity clearly knew a lot more than it had told him so far.

“If this artifact is so powerful, why were Alsar-9 and its hiding-in-the-shadows celestial buddies so surprised to discover it’s where the Kilvar are planning their ascendancy?” asked Fredericks.

“Alsar-9 didn’t know if we’d survive the discovery of the artifact,” said Flint. “That means it’s dangerous. Perhaps anything which finds it is killed without a chance of resistance.”

“But not the Kilvar,” said Maddox.

“And we’re heading willingly to this place,” said Garrett.

“Quiet,” said Flint impatiently. “So those who knew about the artifact expunged it from the records and kept knowledge of its existence under lock and key.”

“Then, the Kilvar found it without anyone knowing they’d found it,” said Larson. “And they believed they could use its power to turn themselves into a god.”

“By feeding it life energy?” said Maddox. “What if the artifact wipes them out when they arrive for their gathering?”

“I’m not banking on that happening,” said Fredericks.

“We’re speculating about all this,” said Flint. His instincts were telling him that he and his crew were on the right track, though they’d probably never learn the full truth.

“What’s the plan, sir?” asked Burner. “We can’t beat the Kilvar in a firefight.”

“The decay pulse,” said Flint. “If the Kilvar gathering is centred on Endurus, we’ll be able to take a bunch of them out in one discharge.”

Everyone could see the flaws in the plan, but nobody pointed them out. At this stage, there wasn’t an alternative. Played right, the Hades would have time for one attack run – a single chance to kill the Shadows of Kilvus and set the Kilvar back a few hundred years. That was assuming the decay pulse had the potency to deplete the energy shields of numerous five-trillion-ton warships in a single discharge.

Whatever the outcome, the Hades wasn’t coming out of this in one piece.

“Four minutes and we go,” said Fredericks.

“As soon as we arrive, activate the phase shift,” said Flint. “That should take off some of the heat and give us time to check out the lay of the land.”

“Yes, sir.”

Flint sensed Larson’s gaze and he turned her way. She smiled and there was a sadness in it.

“We haven’t lost yet, Commander.”

“I know, sir. I’d just hoped everything would turn out differently.”

“You and me both.” He forced a smile of his own. “We’re going to kick some ass and a year from now we’ll be telling tales in the mess hall.”

“And wearing so many medals we’ll need a squad of Daklan to carry us back to our quarters.”

“Yeah.” Flint’s smile faded. “I don’t want to fail.” He took a slow, steady breath. “Damnit, I won’t fail. We won’t fail. Not now.”

Larson held his gaze for a moment longer, like she was searching his soul. “Let’s do this,” she said, and the underlying determination was clear on her face.

The gateway timer counted down and the crew said little. There wasn’t much to say – Endurus was completely off the map, so this was a trip into the unknown. That left only guesswork and nobody seemed interested in partaking.

“One minute,” said Fredericks.

Flint’s grip tightened on the controls and his eyes swept across the instrumentation. Every needle and gauge was in the right place, except for those which monitored the missing Terrus gun.

For a moment, Flint stared at the main output gauge. The superstressed engines were idling in a state of complete stability, with no sign of the anomalies which had appeared earlier. Flint was determined he wouldn’t hold back in the coming engagement. Anomalies be damned.

“Ten seconds on the gateway!” shouted Fredericks.

The digits on the timer fell to zero and the gateway opened. Flint clenched his teeth automatically, as if his body remembered the agony of past transits.

Briefly, the bulkhead screen went blank and then the feeds resumed. The first impression Flint had was of darkness. Pain from the gateway was greater than expected and it didn’t fade like it had on previous transits. The effect was different to before – more a feeling of overall sickliness than a thumping in his head and nausea in his guts.

“Activating phase shift,” said Fredericks. “Damn, that was a rough transit.”

The switchover to phase shift made the needles on Flint’s console jump around for a couple of seconds before they settled. He didn’t need to see the increased readouts in order to sense the extra draw on the annihilator’s engines - the whole warship seemed to vibrate with it.

“Let’s get away from here,” said Flint. He pushed the control bars and the Hades accelerated. The sound of its propulsion seemed a little different and Flint wondered if he detected perhaps a hint of reluctance. A glance at the instrumentation told him the onboard systems were operating normally.

“Near scans underway,” said Burner.

“I’m on the fars,” said Garrett. “Early signs are that we’re alone.”

“Searching for Endurus,” said Becerra. “This might take a while if it’s halfway around its orbital track.”

“There may be an issue with our ternium drive, sir,” said Eastwood. “Our available output is at ninety-nine percent of its expected maximum.”

Flint turned and it was then he noticed what might have been a haze in the air, as if the lights weren’t quite so bright as they should be.

“Is this a problem, Lieutenant Eastwood?”

“Absolutely it is, sir. I’m checking it out.”

“Nears done and clear,” said Burner. “Moving onto the fars.”

“Anyone else feeling like shit?” asked Maddox. “I thought it was the gateway, but it hasn’t gone away.”

Flint suddenly realised what it was suppressing the lights. “I think we’re in a death sphere,” he said. “Maybe not in the middle of one, but on the edge.”

“On the plus side, that probably means we’re in the right place,” said Maddox. “Or totally the wrong place, depending on your perspective.”

“Fars complete,” said Garrett. “Nothing to report.”

The result of the far scan wasn’t enough to make Flint feel anything resembling relief. In fact, the tension was making his muscles tight and he felt like a hand was squeezing his insides. The sickliness from the death sphere was just the icing on the cake.

“I’ve located Endurus, sir, and it’s at the exact location Alsar-9 provided,” said Becerra. “It’s in the middle of a death sphere. The sensors are having a hard time reading the data.”

“Show me,” said Flint.

“On the screen, sir.”

The planet appeared on the bulkhead viewscreen as an overmagnified circle of reddish grey. Four moons were visible as muddy spheres.

“Will the feed enhance?”

“That’s the best I can do, sir,” said Becerra. “I don’t even know if the colours are right – I’ve had to make some assumptions based on limited data.”

“A fifty-million-klick-radius death sphere,” said Flint. He didn’t need to make any calculations, rough or otherwise, to realise that the volume encompassed was staggeringly greater than any other death sphere he’d encountered. “The power source must be monumental.”

“Yes, sir,” said Fredericks. “I’m terrified just thinking about it.”

Flint had another realisation. “Lieutenant Becerra, you said that Endurus was in the exact location provided to us.”

“I was just running some extra checks before bringing that up again, sir.” Becerra didn’t usually curse, but she did now. “My scans indicate that Endurus isn’t in motion.”

“What could explain that?”

“If Endurus were totally free from gravitational influence it could, in theory, appear to be motionless,” said Becerra. “Of course, the planet needed to get here somehow, and generally the gravitational pull of a larger object such as a star would—”

“I can’t find a star,” Burner interrupted. “I’ve been looking while you talked and there’s no sign of a damned star.”

“Would the death sphere affect your ability to find the local sun?” asked Flint.

“No, sir. A star emits a certain kind of unmistakeable—” Burner pulled himself up short. “No, sir,” he repeated. “There’s no star.”

“Which means we’re not in a solar system,” said Flint. “There’ll be no planets except Endurus.”

“The story behind the happening isn’t important at the moment, sir,” said Larson.

“You’re right, Commander. We can only deal what’s in front of us.” Flint’s eyes went back to Endurus and he shivered. “If the artifact can create a death sphere like this one, what the hell else can it do?” It wasn’t a question Flint expected anyone to answer and the crew didn’t speak. He had another thought. “What if we’re too late and the ascendancy already happened?”

“We can’t be too late,” said Larson.

“Keep scanning – it’s all we can do for the moment,” said Flint. “We might gather something worthwhile from here.”

“Yes, sir,” said Becerra.

While his sensor crew got on with it, Flint thought hard. The Kilvar were at Endurus, of that he was sure. If the ascendancy had taken place there was nothing he could do about it, so it didn’t seem worthwhile to dwell on the possibility.

So, Flint assumed he was facing a situation he could still influence. On that basis, what he badly wanted to know was how many Seekings had arrived before him, since he intended to catch as much of the Kilvar fleet as possible in the decay pulse’s quarter-of-a-million-kilometre radius. If he committed too soon, the weapon might not destroy a significant number of the enemy. On the other hand, if he misjudged the other way, Flint might hold for so long that the Kilvar would complete their ascendancy.

And then there was the artifact – a complete unknown in all of this. Perhaps the decay pulse would turn it into useless powder, but Flint didn’t think so. Had the artifact’s destruction been so straightforward, he felt sure it would have happened long ago.

All things considered, Flint was on a tightrope and it was one he didn’t want to walk. He hoped his sensor team would locate something in the feeds that would make his decision easier. He coughed and tasted iron in his mouth.

“Damn death spheres,” he cursed.

Flint’s life wasn’t about to get any better.

“Sir, our available output fell another one percent. We’re at ninety-eight percent of our expected maximum,” said Eastwood.

“What’s happening here, Lieutenant?”

“I think this is more than just a death sphere, sir. Whatever is coming from Endurus, I think it’s draining our ternium modules, and I can’t figure out how it’s happening.”

“Does that mean you can’t stop it?”

“Not at the moment, sir.” Eastwood looked up and his expression told its own story. “Maybe once I’ve got my head around a few things I’ll be better placed to test some potential fixes. There’s more.”

“There’s always more,” said Flint. “You’re going to tell me the rate of engine decay is increasing.”

“Yes, sir. It’s not all bad. Our exium modules aren’t affected – not so far.”

“If we lose the output from all that ternium and have to shift our entire power draw onto the exium instead, it’s going to be interesting,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir. Interesting.”

“How long do we have?”

“I don’t have enough data to offer you an accurate prediction, sir.” Eastwood raised a hand. “But I’ll give you what I have. I think our ternium output will be down to seventy-five percent within half an hour, sir. Fifty percent twenty minutes later. We’ll have to balance our load increasingly onto the exium modules – at least if we want to remain battle ready.”

“In other words, the clock is ticking,” said Flint.

“It’s always ticking, sir. Sometimes it goes fast and at other times it goes slow. But it’s always fast when you want it to be slow.”

“Right this moment, I might prefer it if the clock stopped entirely, Lieutenant.”

The words, said half in frustration and half in jest, were enough to give Flint the makings of an idea. He calmed his mind and did his best to imagine how his inchoate plan might work in practice.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“With all due respect, that’s a crazy plan, sir,” said Fredericks. At least the man had the good grace to include a note of admiration in his assessment.

“How about I pass the hat around and you all put your better ideas into it,” said Flint. “I’ll draw one out and we’ll go with that instead.”

“Maybe we should stick with your plan, sir,” said Fredericks. “The longer I think about it, the better I like it.”

Flint’s eyes went to the propulsion output gauge, which was currently on ninety-seven percent, heading for ninety-six. “We can’t sit here forever, hoping for inspiration.”

“Should I speak with Captain Vance and have him put things in motion, sir?” asked Becerra. Vance had left the bridge earlier to see to his company.

“Please do,” said Flint. “I can change my mind later if needs be.”

“Except you’re not going to change your mind,” said Larson. “Because it’s a good plan.”

“I still maintain it’s a crazy plan,” said Fredericks.

“And with no guarantee of success,” added Eastwood. “Still, there are times I don’t mind crazy, and this is one of them.”

“There’s no point in holding here at fifty million klicks,” said Flint. “We’re approaching to twenty million on the ternium drive. We’ll scan the planet and if I judge the time is right, we’ll attack.”

“I’ve entered the destination coordinates, sir,” said Fredericks a moment later. “Waiting on your order to warm up the lightspeed drive.”

“Do it,” said Flint.

“Two minutes and we go,” said Fredericks.

“What are you feeling about this whole situation, sir?” asked Larson.

The question caught Flint by surprise. “I haven’t stopped to think about it, Commander.” He knew what Larson was really asking and he considered his next words. “Something feels wrong. Not the plan – I’m sure that has as good a chance of working out as any other plan. It’s just—"

“I know what you mean,” said Larson. “There’s so much at play here and I worry we’re going to screw up because of a factor we don’t know about.”

Larson had a good way of putting words to thoughts which hadn’t yet fully formed in Flint’s mind. “We have to act, Commander. That’s not a choice.” He tried to smile. “I never came across a time where the destruction of an enemy fleet wasn’t a good thing.”

“And if it worked in the past, huh?”

Larson wasn’t judging and Flint saw by her expression that she was lost too and fighting to hold steady in the face of the overwhelming, irreversible catastrophe that would result from failure. The worst outcomes of prior missions had always involved death, often on a colossal scale. Now the stakes were even higher - the end, potentially of everything.

It all comes down to this.

“Thirty seconds!” said Fredericks.

When the timer hit zero, the Hades entered lightspeed for a split second, and when it emerged from the transit, the effects of the death sphere were greater than before. The sickliness made Flint feel weak and it took a great mental effort to maintain his focus.

Everyone else in the crew felt it too and it seemed like all of them had a few curse words to offer.

“Scanning,” said Burner. He coughed hollowly and it sounded painful. “I mean, commencing local area scans.”

The other members of the comms team got on with it and the local scans came back clear, though Flint was sure that without the phase shift, a bunch of Kilvar warships would soon appear out of mode 3 and start shooting.

“Turn the arrays on Endurus,” said Flint. “We need intel on what’s ahead of us.”

“On it, sir,” said Burner.

“And what’s Captain Vance’s progress?” asked Flint.

“I’ll find out, sir,” said Becerra.

“Maybe we should take Frenziol shots, sir,” said Larson. “This death sphere is way worse than any we’ve been in before. I think it would have killed us already if we hadn’t been in the chamber.”

“Boosters it is,” said Flint. He dragged out a Frenziol injector and stared at it like it was his worst enemy. “Pass on the order to Captain Vance.” As he spoke, Flint drove the needle into his leg and winced at the coldness of the fluid it squirted into his muscle tissue.

“I’ve passed on the order, sir. And Captain Vance will be on the shuttle soon. Five minutes at most.”

“And he’s confident in what he has to do?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The degradation rate of our propulsion has increased again, sir,” said Eastwood. “It’s rising with our proximity to Endurus. Our exium modules remain unaffected.”

“What the hell is on that planet?” Flint wondered.

“Check out the feed, sir,” said Burner. “We’ve got much better visibility from here.”

The sensor feed appeared on the bulkhead screen. It was far from perfect and the death sphere appeared much denser, as if it were a physical presence. Endurus itself was nothing out of the ordinary – a rocky sphere with a nine-thousand-kilometre diameter, though the surface patterns were peculiar in a way Flint couldn’t pin down.

Orbiting the planet were four moons, with no clues as to whether any more existed blind side. Those satellites were no more unusual than the planet itself, with the largest being five hundred kilometres in diameter.

“Have you located any Kilvar warships?” asked Flint.

“Yes, sir,” said Burner. “I’ve detected activity around the planet. Another couple of minutes and I’ll have a good idea of how many enemy vessels are within our visibility arc.”

“I’ve located one object which is the approximate size of the Cadavax, sir,” said Garrett. “I’m analysing the data to see if I can confirm a match.”

Flint’s heart jumped at the news. If the Cadavax was here, then Seviron and Galtivon were almost certainly onboard. For some reason, he felt an especially keen desire to kill these Shadows of Kilvus – more so than the others – and, though Flint didn’t like to admit it, the escape of these creatures had hurt his pride.

“The fall rate on our ternium output has just taken a step change in the wrong direction, sir,” said Eastwood. “We’re at eighty percent.”

“You’re balancing the load?”

“Yes, sir. So far our exium modules are coping, even with the additional drain from the phase shift. The time to start worrying is when we’re under full acceleration with a thousand missiles raining down on our energy shield.”

“Understood,” said Flint.

“Do we need to delay this, sir?” asked Larson. “The longer we hold off—”

“The harder it’ll become,” said Flint. “I know.”

“If that’s the Cadavax down there, destroying it will be enough to give the alliance decades of time to build,” Larson persisted. “And we’ll know where the artifact is situated, so even if the Kilvar gather enough life energy, we can make it real hard for them to complete their ritual or whatever the hell they need to do in order to ascend.”

“I accept everything you’re saying, Commander. It’s just that we have a chance to do more – if we hold for another few minutes, the other Shadows of Kilvus might arrive. Imagine if we could wipe the Kilvar out, once and for all – we’d have a total victory, rather than kicking this can down the road for alliance sons and daughters to deal with in fifty or a hundred years.”

“There’s taking it to the brink and there’s stepping over the edge, sir.”

“Scans confirm it is the Cadavax, sir,” said Garrett. “It’s stationary over the planet.”

“Search for others like it,” said Flint.

“I’ve detected a second enemy capital ship!” said Becerra. “It’s about six thousand klicks from the Cadavax, with a similar mass. I’m analysing the data, but I’m certain this is a warship we haven’t encountered before.”

“Don’t spend time reading the data, Lieutenant. Move on and hunt for a third.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Lieutenant Burner, what have you found?” asked Flint.

“I’ve been studying Endurus, sir,” said Burner. “There’s something about the place—”

“Is it important enough to take you away from scanning the Kilvar fleet?”

“Yes, sir. That’s why I’m doing it.”

“Tell me what’s unusual.”

Burner talked quickly. “The planet isn’t spherical, sir. I don’t think there’s a planet out there which is a perfect sphere, but Endurus looks like it’s been squashed from several different directions. And the surface makeup is strange – the ages and compositions are totally mismatched. However Endurus was formed, it’s totally different to anything I’ve seen before.”

“What’s the significance, Lieutenant?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, sir. And it’s not just Endurus that’s odd – the visible moons were formed at completely different times. The newest is less than a billion years old and the oldest is five billion. It’s remotely possible this could have occurred naturally, but given everything else, I’m not convinced.”

Flint’s alarm bells were already ringing and he didn’t wish for added complications. “Keep at it, Lieutenant.” He swore. “I’m not sure anything you find is going to change what we have to do.”

“I’ve located a third capital ship, sir,” said Becerra. “This one is seven thousand klicks from the Cadavax.”

“We’ve seen enough, sir,” said Larson. “You can’t push this any further. If we defeat these Kilvar warships and the Shadows of Kilvus with them, we’ll bring centuries of safety to the alliance.”

Flint couldn’t get over the feeling that he was missing something important. Either that or the uncertainties of his plan were weighing him down. Even so, he nodded. “Yes. It’s time.”

“I’ve detected anomalies on two of our exium modules, sir,” said Fredericks. “I’ve stopped them from replicating, but I think we’ve reached a tipping point.”

“It won’t be an issue soon, Lieutenant.”

For a moment, Flint stared at the sensor feed of Endurus and its moons. He imagined the billions – perhaps trillions – of lives which had been lost throughout the universe. Endless murder. And the souls of those dead had been brought here so that the Kilvar could give birth to their god.

Flint tapped his fingertip on the tactical display and the SRT button on the left control bar lit up to indicate it was ready.

“Does everyone know what’s expected of them?” he asked.

Every member of the crew answered at the same time and the strength in their voices was heartening.

“Lieutenant Becerra, advise Captain Vance that we’re beginning our attack run,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir.”

The time for talking was done. Years of warfare – against both the Lavorix and then the Kilvar had led to this, and Flint was ready to give it his best shot. He didn’t allow himself to dwell any longer on the consequences of failure and the doubts slipped away like the quiet passing of an old friend.

Flint’s thumb rested on the SRT activation button. He sent the Hades into lightspeed.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Hades emerged from its transit and Flint prepared himself for an increase in the death sphere’s intensity. Waves of nausea struck him and every part of his body ached like it had been beaten with sticks. He groaned and sucked in the recycled air. The medical computer within his suit bleeped, warning him of numerous problems with his vital signs.

“Sensors!” he shouted.

This wasn’t the time for weakness and Flint tensed his muscles, hoping to squeeze out the pain.

I’ve been through worse.

What might have been a platitude made Flint realise that he had been through worse before. The Raklivian’s death pulses had caused him the most appalling physical suffering of his life and the death sphere of Endurus was certainly no worse. The knowledge that he’d survived before made him determined to survive again.

Flint turned briefly – long enough to see that the other members of his crew had also lived. They were cursing, but nobody had suffered Lieutenant Bolan’s fate.

“Damnit, sensors!” snapped Flint, hoping to spur his crew into action.

“Sensors coming online,” said Burner.

The bulkhead screens illuminated and Flint saw how close the Hades was to one of the planet’s moons – less than a hundred kilometres, he judged it. It was close, but a near-miss had always been part of the plan. If the Hades was blind side of the moon as was intended, the annihilator would be out of sight for just long enough.

“Nears running,” said Burner. “Enemy warships detected.”

“Holding the fars, as ordered,” said Garrett.

“Our ternium output is dropping like a stone,” said Eastwood. “We’ll be running entirely on the exium modules in less than two minutes.”

“Anomalies detected,” said Fredericks. “At least a dozen are runaways. I may not be able to recover these ones, sir.”

The tactical screen told a tale. So numerous were the Kilvar that many of them were visible even here on the blind side of the moon. Dozens of enemy warships were parked within fifty thousand kilometres of the Hades’ arrival place. Without doubt, the Kilvar had brought their Seekings here to Endurus, to witness the ascendancy.

“Be ready on the decay pulse,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir,” said Larson. “And the Terrus guns.”

“I’ve got everything else,” said Maddox.

By now, Flint had oriented himself. The annihilator’s nose was pointing in the right direction and a half-circuit of the moon would bring Endurus into sight. As soon as that happened, he anticipated the enemy capital ships would detect his approach and then all hell would break loose.

“Here we go,” he said.

The Hades accelerated, sluggishly for a moment. Then, the output bar from the exium modules jumped to eighty percent and the annihilator’s velocity gauge climbed with a vigour Flint had not seen before. Whatever adjustments to the loading his propulsion officers had made, they’d biased it heavily to the exium modules.

“More anomalies appearing,” said Fredericks. “I’m eliminating the ones I can.”

“Keep on top of them, Lieutenant.”

This moon of Endurus had no atmosphere, so Flint didn’t have to consider the effects of particle bombardment on the annihilator’s energy shield. The Hades raced around the moon and with each passing moment, more of the Kilvar fleet became visible. Soon, the tactical was tracking more than eight hundred individual targets, and Flint wondered how high that number would climb as his warship’s visibility arc widened.

“Endurus should be within sight any moment, sir,” said Becerra.

The planet appeared around the moon’s cusp and, despite the presence of the death sphere, Flint could clearly see the irregularity of its shape. It made him think of dough, rolled by hand into something which approximated a sphere, yet without any of the perfection.

“Where’s the Cadavax?” muttered Flint anxiously, his eyes jumping between the tactical and the forward feeds.

By now, almost half of Endurus was in sight and its surface appeared to be made up from vast plates of different-coloured rock. Where those plates met, huge mountain ranges had formed.

The Kilvar had parked an enormous number of their warships here and the automatic count on the tactical went past fifteen hundred. A clear order existed in how they were arrayed, with equal distances between each, and with every vessel oriented in the same direction. The sight of it made Flint think of supplicants at a temple, waiting for a blessing.

“I’ve located the Cadavax!” said Becerra. “It’s on the tactical.”

Even wearing as it did the starkly impressive damage from the Hades’ previous Terrus attacks, the enemy capital ship appeared no less threatening than before, a scarred giant of jagged dark metal.

To Flint’s trained eye, the Cadavax was as ready to fight as it had ever been. He adjusted onto a course that would take the Hades past the enemy ship at an angle.

“The second and third capital ships are also on the tactical, sir,” said Garrett.

These other ships were different in shape to the Cadavax. The closest reminded Flint a little of the Meklon warship Vengeance, though on a vastly greater scale. Unlike the Vengeance, this Kilvar warship had twin guns protruding from either side of its tapered nose and Flint didn’t want to find out what they were capable of.

The third capital ship was low to the planet and almost over the curvature, but what Flint could see of it made him think it was a flattened cylinder. Doubtless its hull bristled with weapons, but from here he couldn’t make them out.

“Our ternium drive is on the brink of failure, sir!” said Eastwood. “Ninety percent of our output is now from the exium modules.”

“And the anomalies are completely out of control,” said Fredericks. “I can’t fix any more than a fraction.”

“Keep trying, Lieutenant,” said Flint. His eyes went back to the feeds. The Cadavax was within five thousand kilometres. “Commander Larson, give Seviron something to think about.”

Larson was ready, like she’d promised. “Terrus guns locked and loaded. T1, T2 and T3: fired.”

The six guns rocked back in their housing and the Cadavax’s energy shield burned blue. The colour darkened rapidly, seeming to warp inwards as it did so. Six massive slugs punched right through and crunched into an undamaged part of the enemy warship’s topside plating.

“Six hits!” shouted Larson. “Have that, you assholes!”

Fredericks knew exactly what he had to do. “Phase shift cancelled.”

“Decay pulse fired!” yelled Larson.

The bridge lights dimmed and Flint felt a violent shock coursing through his body, adding to all the other crap it was having to deal with. His grip on the controls didn’t weaken and he was dimly aware that every gauge on his console had jumped to maximum. Red lights and ambers appeared, enough to make him believe the Hades was about to break up.

A ripple swept outwards from the annihilator, distorting time, space and reality as well, for all Flint knew. Like a shockwave from colliding stars, the decay pulse smashed through the Kilvar warships, expanding as if it would never stop.

Before Flint’s eyes, the enemy fleet began to break up. This was not a gradual happening – rather, each Kilvar vessel split violently into many pieces and those pieces in turn burst into ever smaller parts, which accelerated away from each other. It was as though, within in each spaceship, an octillion detonations were taking place at the atomic level, ripping apart the bonds holding these immense constructions together.

“Oh shit,” said Maddox. “What have we done?”

The Cadavax had broken up, though a few larger pieces remained, as if the warship was too massive to be completely unmade. Flint studied the debris for a moment, wondering if Seviron and Galtivon had survived, or if they had been reduced to atoms like everything else.

“Look at Endurus!” said Becerra. “And the moons!”

The planet and its satellites had not escaped the decay pulse. Clouds of particles were ejected from the surface of each, their colours merging to create uniform greys. These particles travelled at enormous velocity and in less than a minute, the Hades would be engulfed.

“All this from one weapon?” said Copeland in shock.

Flint didn’t respond – he had too much to take in. The smaller warships in the Kilvar fleet were gone, having been utterly destroyed by the decay pulse. Likewise, the Cadavax was neutralised, but the other two Kilvar capital ships were no longer visible to the sensors. Flint guessed they were hidden amongst the thickening dust, or perhaps their destruction had added to the maelstrom.

“Two of our exium modules are about to turn critical, sir,” said Fredericks. “The output spikes are beyond anything I’ve seen before.”

The backup plan – create the biggest sphere of zero-time to trap the Kilvar fleet if the decay pulse wasn’t effective – didn’t seem like it was needed any longer. With the superstressed exium modules out of control, it was too late to cancel the plan and, as Flint watched an entire planet and its moons break apart, he no longer feared the outcome. He reduced the annihilator’s velocity and banked once more towards what remained of the Cadavax.

“Something big just came out of lightspeed about fifty thousand klicks from our position, sir,” said Burner. “It’s another Kilvar capital vessel, but I can’t get a clear sight of it through all this crap.”

“Somebody get on the comms and tell them the party’s over,” said Maddox.

“Did we do it?” asked Becerra uncertainly. “I mean, did we stop the ascendancy?”

“I don’t know,” said Flint. “We took a chunk out of the enemy fleet.”

“The Terrus guns are reloaded, sir,” said Larson. “Should I fire them at what’s left of the Cadavax? I can’t get a lock on the enemy warship that just arrived.”

Flint couldn’t see much that was worth shooting. Those few pieces of wreckage which might have constituted a worthwhile target only moments before seemed to be crumbling into ever smaller parts.

“Sir, you might want to look at the sensors!” said Garrett. “There’s something happening at Endurus!”

Flint shifted his gaze to the portside feeds. At first, his brain couldn’t comprehend what was happening. The clouds of dust were thicker than they had been before, but now he got the impression they were stirring, like the most powerful of currents had formed beneath the surface.

“What is it?” asked Larson.

“Damned if I know,” said Flint.

A flashing light on his top panel drew his attention to the output gauge for the exium modules. The level was stuck on one hundred percent, even though nothing was drawing significant power.

“The criticalities are spreading into the adjacent modules, sir,” said Fredericks. “The exium is about to do something unpredictable.”

“Just like being back on the Firestorm,” said Maddox.

“Kilvar warships have exited lightspeed, sir,” said Garrett. “A crapload of them.”

“More of their fleet for us to trap in zero-time,” said Flint.

The enemy fleet was at a half-million klicks and visible in the gap directly between the expanding dust of Endurus and one of its moons. Flint didn’t want a confrontation and he banked the Hades, aiming it towards the planet where he intended to take cover within the dust.

“Not all the Seekings were here,” said Larson. “Maybe we should have waited like you said.”

“No - you were right about not taking it to the brink. I have no regrets.” Flint looked across and smiled. “We hurt them, Commander. And we’ll put these late arrivals in zero-time. Perhaps it will prove to be a knockout blow.”

Flint opened his mouth to give the order for Lieutenant Fredericks to create the stasis field. Before he could speak, everything on the sensor feeds became frozen in place. Flint had been half-expecting it to happen, so it came as no surprise. The fact that he wasn’t dead, now that was a surprise.

“Our exium modules have gone totally haywire, sir,” said Eastwood. “Their output climbed to five thousand percent of—” He caught sight of the feeds. “Oh.”

“Those modules created a sphere of zero-time, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “And we’re in the middle of it.” He snapped open his harness and stood. Blood rushed to his head, bringing a thumping pain and reminding him that adrenaline and Frenziol could only help so much against a death sphere of this potency. “We’ve done all we can. It’s time to abandon ship. We have to move quickly.”

Flint’s first steps were unsteady, but then his body regained some of its balance. He crossed over to the weapons cabinet and wrenched it open. The Rodans looked way too heavy, so he took out a gauss rifle instead. At the same moment, he wondered why he was bothering at all.

“Leave the guns,” Flint said, holding onto his anyway. “There’ll be others on the shuttle.”

He led the crew from the bridge, glad the battery backups were still online to open the interior blast-proof doors. The passages of the warship were cold and the lights were suppressed to near-darkness. Flint did his best to make haste, but the debilitating effects of the death sphere were a drag on his every footstep. He cursed the frailty and stumbled onwards.

The journey to Shuttle Bay 2 was not a long one, but it was time enough for Flint to turn the recent events over in his mind. He was worried. More than worried. Although the decay pulse had wrecked the Kilvar fleet, he didn’t truly know if it had destroyed the Shadows of Kilvus.

And then there was the planet. The artifact was upon its surface and Flint wondered what the decay pulse had done to it. If the so-called gods couldn’t destroy this mysterious object, he didn’t believe anything on the Hades would have fared better.

Have we unwittingly awoken something that should have been left well alone?

“Nearly at the bay,” said Larson.

Flint turned right at the next turning and slammed his palm onto the access panel for Shuttle Bay 2. The door slid open and he stepped into the familiar space, with its familiar alliance-built transport clamped next to the walkway.

A few soldiers waited at the entrance, standing just outside the pool of light which came from within, as if years of combat had taught them to seek the darkness.

“Lieutenant Gantry,” said Flint in greeting. He didn’t slow and went straight onto the shuttle. “Good work on the oblex core.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Gantry. “I’ll turn down the radius of the negation field on your order. I don’t know how long Oblex#41 can maintain a sphere this large without depleting its core.”

“Wait until the shuttle exits the warship, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “I’d hate for the batteries powering the hull doors to fall into zero-time. After that, as long as the negation field encompasses the entire shuttle, we’ll be fine.”

“Yes, sir.”

Flint entered the passenger bay, in which the soldiers from Captain Vance’s company were sitting. There was hardly any talk and Flint spotted Corporal Hendrix and a couple of other medics attending to a few soldiers in the far corner near the cargo bay entrance. Flint suspected he’d learn about fatalities later, but he couldn’t allow himself think about that now.

Climbing the steps to the cockpit, Flint found Vance and Tagra already seated. He told them to stay and took the middle seat. Meanwhile the crew from the Hades slumped against the rear bulkhead.

“Is everyone onboard?” asked Flint.

“Everyone that’s coming, sir,” said Vance.

Flint nodded in understanding. “Let’s get out of here.”

The shuttle was ready to go. He activated the auto-launch sequence and a thump of acceleration followed. The first set of hull doors opened without apparent strain, as did the second and then the third. Darkness beckoned and the shuttle was ejected into space.

Endurus

“Lieutenant Gantry, reduce the radius of the negation sphere,” said Flint on the comms.

“Yes, sir. That’s done.”

“What now, sir?” asked Vance.

“Now, we escape from the zero-time before the exium core in Oblex#41 becomes depleted,” said Flint.

He banked the shuttle away from the Hades and chose a course that would take the transport in the opposite direction from the last known position of the Kilvar. It was probable that the enemy warships were all trapped in zero-time, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

“How far does the stasis field extend, sir?” asked Vance.

“I don’t know,” said Flint. “Every one of the Hades’ exium modules went critical, so I guess it could be a hundred thousand klicks.”

“I think you’re underestimating, sir,” said Eastwood. “Significantly underestimating.”

“I’m happy to be wrong, Lieutenant.”

Vance clearly had an important question on his mind that he’d been holding in until the shuttle was on its way. “Did we beat the Kilvar, sir?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Captain. None of us knows.” Flint filled his officer in on the details.

“We aren’t dead,” said Vance. “I’ll take that as a good starting point.”

The shuttle was a fast model and it soon achieved its maximum velocity of almost three hundred kilometres per second. Flint held it steady and gazed at the feeds. The view outside was strange. With the negation field bringing the trapped light out of stasis, Flint had expected to the surrounding space as it had been at the moment the zero-time field was created.

Instead, the feeds were of something that was not quite total darkness, but more of a dark grey onto which a shape or a line occasionally intruded. Lieutenant Burner fumbled for an explanation.

“The sensors aren’t gathering the data from all the escaping light, sir,” said Burner. “I suspect the negation sphere is so tight to our hull that some of the light isn’t caught in the visual arc of our sensor arrays. I’d be interested to see what kind of data the arrays on the Hades would pull in.”

At any other time, Flint would have been interested. Here on the shuttle, he was too distracted by recent events. A feeling of unease which had been with him since he’d first learned about the alien artifact had grown progressively stronger and now it was making him fearful for reasons he couldn’t pin down.

Endurus. Something about Endurus.

After four hours in the zero-time field, Flint began to think the shuttle would never escape. The oblex core wasn’t - strictly speaking - designed to create negation fields and he didn’t know how much longer it would be able to cancel the stasis.

“We’ve travelled more than four million klicks so far,” said Eastwood. “Those exium cores sure played havoc with time.”

Flint was about to respond when he noticed a change on the sensor feeds. A transition had happened from the darkness of zero-time to the darkness of vacuum and stars.

“We’re back in normal space,” said Vance.

“The sensors are now gathering their usual quantities of data,” said Tagra. “We have emerged from the stasis field.”

Flint exhaled. “Send a comm to base. Ask for a pickup.”

“This vessel lacks a real time transmitter,” said Tagra. “The comm will have significant travel time. I have sent the request.”

“Lieutenant Gantry, cancel the negation field,” said Flint on the comms. “We’re out of stasis.”

“Yes, sir.”

For a few moments, Flint didn’t know what to do with himself. The nagging feeling that something was wrong had intensified. He checked the instrumentation and found nothing that gave him concern.

“Captain Flint!” said Tagra. “Something is happening within the stasis field!”

Flint snapped his head to the sensor feed. The area in stasis appeared like a sphere of dark upon dark. And yet, within that sphere was movement. Staring with unblinking eyes, Flint couldn’t fully comprehend what he was seeing. Like the sphere was a dense liquid, something forced its way through, warping the stasis and sending out great convulsive ripples as it went.

“What the hell is that?” asked Larson, standing at Flint’s shoulder and leaning closer to the feeds.

“I don’t know, Commander.”

A spaceship emerged from the stasis field, a quarter of a million kilometres from the shuttle, and at a velocity low enough to indicate its propulsion laboured to forge a path through the zero-time.

Flint watched, his mouth open, as the vessel tore itself free - its hull was dark and its shape angular. On and on it came, and it was only when his eyes went to the estimated size reading on the feed, did Flint realise exactly how far beyond his imaginings this was.

“Seven thousand klicks in length,” said Larson. “An estimated mass of—” She stopped herself, as if she couldn’t bring herself to read out the numbers.

“The Kilvar god,” said Flint in sudden realisation.

“But we wiped out their fleet,” said Maddox.

Flint didn’t know what to say. How things had led to this, he had no idea at all. He began to speak, when a death pulse tore through the shuttle. It was bad, and Flint gritted his teeth and bowed his head. The pain lingered and when he raised his head once more, the spaceship was gone.

“How did it happen?” asked Fredericks. “We did everything we could.”

“And it wasn’t enough, Lieutenant.”

Flint’s mind was in turmoil. He was sure the decay pulse had killed both Seviron and Galtivon, but for whatever reason, it hadn’t mattered.

And now he saw that the ascendancy wasn’t a means to turn the Kilvar into a god in the way that he’d always pictured it. Instead, it was a means to awaken the artifact by infusing it with the life energies of a trillion souls.

Deep down inside, Flint wondered if the Kilvar had themselves been tricked by whispered promises, when in fact the artifact was using them all along. Whatever the truth behind a war which had lasted for hundreds of years and wiped out many species, an abomination had now been unleashed upon the universe.

Worst of all, Flint had a feeling that this new god – or a spaceship that may as well be a god - could never be stopped. He bowed his head and hoped he could find the strength to carry on.

* * *

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Other Science Fiction Books by Anthony James

Survival Wars (Seven Books) – Available in eBook, Paperback and Audio.

Crimson Tempest

Bane of Worlds

Chains of Duty

Fires of Oblivion

Terminus Gate

Guns of the Valpian

Mission: Nemesis

Obsidiar Fleet (Six Books – set after the events in Survival Wars) – Available in eBook and Paperback.

Negation Force

Inferno Sphere

God Ship

Earth’s Fury

Suns of the Aranol

Mission: Eradicate

The Transcended (Seven Books – set after the events in Obsidiar Fleet) – Available in eBook, Paperback and Audio.

Augmented

Fleet Vanguard

Far Strike

Galaxy Bomb

Void Blade

Monolith

Mission: Destructor

Fire and Rust (Seven Books) – Available in eBook, Paperback and Audio.

Iron Dogs

Alien Firestorm

Havoc Squad

Death Skies

Refuge 9

Nullifier

Scum of the Universe

Anomalies (Two Books) – Available in eBook and Paperback.

Planet Wreckers

Assault Amplified

Savage Stars (Seven Books) – Available in eBook and Paperback

War from a Distant Sun

Fractured Horizons

Galactar

Fulcrum Gun

Laws of Ancidium

Empires in Ruin

Recker’s Chance