Secrets of the Sphere (Battlecruiser Alamo Book 27) Read online

   He turned another passage, and froze, spotting a figure standing at parade rest in front of a door. A loud rattle echoed through the corridor, a door opening, a familiar person stepping out, fury on her face. Mortimer. With guards on either side of her. He glanced around, calculating their escape route in his head, and coming up with no good answers. From here, they could go deeper into the complex in reasonable safety, but not back out onto the surface. He paused for only a moment before racing forward, pistol in hand. This was what he'd come down here to do, and at least rescuing one of his comrades would be a step in the right direction.

   Mortimer heard him first, slamming her elbow into one of the guards, sending him staggering to the ground, while Clarke fired a shot to catch the other in the side of the head, blood splattering the wall as he fell. One swift kick knocked the first guard into unconsciousness, and without another word, the two of them raced down the corridor, sirens and alarms finally breaking the silence as they sped deeper into the complex.

   “What took you so long?” Mortimer asked.

   “You think walking here was easy?” he replied. “Besides, I had to arrange some help. If we can get up to the surface, we've got a ride all the way back to Alamo.”

   “Easier said than done,” she said, a low rumbling from the rear as security hatches slammed into position. “They're cutting us off.” She glanced at him, and added, “Thanks, though.”

   “Where's Captain Orlova?”

   “We got separated. Somewhere in the complex. There are others, as well...”

   “Salazar, Carpenter, Lombardo,” Clarke said. “The guards got them before I had a chance. Prisoners as well. You didn't see them?”

   “No, but I heard the guards talking.” Gesturing down a corridor, she added, “This way.”

   Nodding, he followed her lead. Behind them, boots slammed into the ground, guards moving into position to avenge the death of their comrade and recapture the erstwhile prisoners. There was another shaft just ahead, but he'd abandoned the rope, and even if he'd taken it, had no way to secure it.

   “Ronnie, this is a dead-end unless...”

   “We're going to jump,” she replied. “Trust me.” The two of them turned down a side passage, running towards the end of the corridor, blocked with a pair of swinging chains. “Just go right over and down. It'll be fine.” She paused, then added, “I got loose this morning for long enough to scout an escape route.”

   “There's nothing down there,” he protested. “The blueprints...”

   “Have a little faith,” she said, taking the chain with a single bound, and jumping down into the pit. Taking a deep breath, and with a last glance behind him, spotting figures in the distance heading their way, he followed, catching his foot on the chain, sending him off balance and diving head first into the unknown. Beneath him, he saw rippling waters, and he extended his hands forward, executing a neat dive into the cold lake, racing below the surface.

   He kicked off, looking around for Mortimer, finally spotting her powering towards some unseen objective, out in the distance. With an effort, he caught up, and she flashed him a smile as they pushed through the water.

   “I told you we're be safe here,” she said. “Shore's about a hundred meters away. Can you make it?”

   “I can make it,” he replied, and the two of them raced for the bank, a towering rock face ahead. Mortimer was first, and she reached down with a hand to tug Clarke from the water, dripping wet as she collapsed onto the sand, looking back the way they had come. Clarke followed, exhausted from the exertion, watching the shaft for any sign of pursuit.

   “We can rest a moment,” she said. “They must have another way down, so we'll need to get on the move.” Turning to him, she asked, “What equipment have you got?”

   “My pistol and a stolen communicator.”

   “That's it?”

   Raising his hands, he replied, “Everything blew up on the flyer. I was improvising.”

   “Just for once, I'd love to see you execute a real mission plan.”

   With a smile, he said, “Just for once, I'd love to have one.”

   She nodded, then said, “Thanks again, by the way. For coming after me. It must have been tempting as well to get on the second flyer and head home.”

   “Not until I've got everyone out.” He paused, then added, “Have you see any of the savages yet?”

   “Savages?”

   “You don't…,” he began. With a deep sigh, he turned to her, and said, “Brace yourself. This is probably worse than you thought.”

   “I already thought it was pretty bad.”

   “This time,” he replied, “trust me. You haven't heard anything yet.” Before he could begin, he saw something in the distance, a tall figure standing on the shore, less than a mile away. Pushing himself to his feet, he started over to it, Mortimer reluctantly following. The figure held still, frozen to the ground, and as he grew closer, he realized it was a statue, carved in some sort of dark green stone, the legs worn as though from ancient erosion. The head was sharp, savage, one of the creatures he had seen, and in his hand, it held a vicious sword with a jagged blade. The other hand held a human head, and the gleaming smile on the figure's face chilled him to the core.

   “Some sort of demon figure?” Mortimer suggested.

   Shaking his head, Clarke replied, “I wish it was. They're real.”

   “You're kidding.”

   “No. I've fought them.”

   “And won?”

   “I survived. From what I've seen, that's victory where they're concerned.” Taking a deep breath, he continued, “We need to find the others and get out of here as fast as we can.”

   “No argument there.” She looked up at the figure, shivered, and repeated, “No argument there.”

  Chapter 17

   Harper peered into the distance, spotting the ruins up ahead. Next to her, sitting in the jump seat, Garland silently scanned the horizon, as though expecting to come under attack at any moment. The buggy bounced over ruts left from the last time it had traveled this way, and scorch marks on the ground were silent testament to the battle that had taken place just hours before.

   Sitting at the rear, Fox cradled a plasma rifle in her arms, the power sequence lights shining from the monitor controls, ready to fire at a second's notice. Harper had wasted several minutes trying to persuade her to stay behind, up to a quick demonstration of the veteran's unarmed combat skills, making it quite clear that there was nothing Harper could do to hold her back.

   She looked over her datapad, scanning over the latest reports from Alamo. No sign of Hegemonic attack, at least, not yet, but they all knew that it was on the way, and that when it came, the battlecruiser would have to pull out. Even if the odds were favorable, they were millions of light-years from any potential aid, any repair station. One lucky hit and their travels would be over.

   The alternative still remained, of hiding out in the Sphere, following the example set by Orlova and the crew of Monitor when they were forced down. Frowning, Harper swiped across the screen again, bringing up the mapped regions of the Sphere. Their drones had roamed for a thousand miles in every direction, and hadn't seen a single trace of Monitor's crew, not until the single beacon signal from Flyer One, two days ago. It seemed inconceivable that they could have gone that far.

   Looking around her, out at the Sphere itself, regret started to tug at her. They'd barely begun the process of exploration, one that could easily take a thousand lifetimes and still be impossibly incomplete. To abandon it without first learning at least some of its secrets seemed a waste, and a part of her, deep inside, longed to stay, whatever the justification. At first, she'd been forced into space. She'd stayed because of moments of wonder, moments like this.

   And because of the man she hoped was aboard the vehicle up ahead.

   “Power signatures,” Fox said, peering down at the scanner, gent
ly guiding the buggy towards their target. “There's something up ahead. A heat source, big enough to be some sort of reactor, I think.” Turning to Garland, she asked, “Did you come across anything like that before?”

   “No,” he replied, bluntly. “We were just setting up the sensor gear when they attacked, but we didn't spot anything like that on our approach. Just cold, dead rock.” He gestured to the right, and added, “They didn't even clean up their mess.”

   Following his glance, Harper saw a stack of bodies on the ground, a dozen of the savages sprawled around, bullet holes ripped into them. Foster's team might have been forced to retreat, but they'd taken a bloody toll in the process. She turned back to the ruins, at first glimpse nothing more than a collection of metal pylons, charred and pitted, arthritic fingers reaching into the heavens. There was something about them, though, a regularity in their form, and the ground behind it was oddly discolored.

   Then, as they approached, they saw a flash of gleaming metal in the midst of the ruins, a shining silver bullet hidden between a pair of battered walls. Fox instantly reacted, turning her rifle to cover the target, but a figure raced out towards them, waving his hands in the air, a mix of relief and fear on his face.

   “Don't shoot!” Lombardo yelled. “It's me, damn it, I'm on your side!”

   “Hold fire,” Harper replied, the look from Fox instantly suggesting her order had been unnecessary. “That your ride, Lieutenant?”

   “And Captain Orlova's,” he said, waving his hand back at the bullet. “She's hurt, pretty bad. I did everything I could for her, but...”

   “I'm on my way,” Garland said.

   “Fox, you go with him,” Harper ordered, as she limped down from the buggy, walking over to the engineer. “What's the situation, Art?”

   “Bad.” Lombardo peered into the distance, and asked, “Where are the rest of you?”

   “This is it,” Harper replied.

   “Damn. That'll slow things down.”

   “Art,” she said, “Aside from Midshipman Koslowski and Corporal Quiller, everyone else is back on the ship. Things have moved pretty quickly while you've been away. Alamo could be under attack at any moment, and Base Camp was attacked by, well, those.” She gestured at one of the nearest corpses, and Lombardo shook his head, cursing under his breath.

   “I know those bastards far too well. Kris, Pavel's back there. As well as Carpenter and Mortimer.”

   “Clarke?”

   “Presumed dead.”

   “Not if I know him.” She took a deep breath, and called out to Garland, “Report, Spaceman!”

   “Critical but stable, Lieutenant,” Garland replied. “We've got to get her back to the ship on the double. If we can get her to sickbay in the next few hours then she'll recover.”

   “Fox, break out the stretcher,” Harper ordered.

   Turning back to the bullet, Lombardo said, “I'm going back.”

   “At least tell me what...”

   “We found some sort of base, out in the desert. They shot down Flyer One, damn near shot down Flyer Two, and captured us when we landed. They were holding Orlova and Mortimer prisoner, and as far as I can tell, they're responsible for the attacks by the savages. They seem to have some sort of control over them.” Grabbing her by the arm, he added, “They're building an army, Kris, and with the bullet trains at their disposal, they can project them for thousands of miles in any direction. A wave of death that won't stop until it wipes out millions, maybe billions of people. If we don't stop them now, it'll be too late.”

   “Lieutenant,” Garland said, he and Fox pulling out Orlova, groaning on the gurney. “We'll be ready to move out in a minute, as soon as she's secured. I've called ahead to the shuttle, and they're making sure that Sickbay is ready to receive her as soon as we land. Thirty minutes, and it'll all be over.”

   Nodding, Harper walked over to her, looking at her friend. For a brief second, Orlova's fever seemed to clear, and she locked eyes with her, silent commands passing between the two of them as though telepathically. She knew what Orlova wanted her to do, and her instincts were no different. She glanced at the buggy, then back at the bullet.

   “You think there's any way we can convince Max to send the Espatiers back over here? With Rhodes and his team...”

   “Frank's dead,” she replied. “Killed in the last attack.” Turning to Lombardo, she continued, “We have reason to expect an imminent Hegemonic strike. If they come in the full force we're expecting, then we're not going to have any choice other than to withdraw. You'd give the same order if you were in the chair, and so would I.”

   Taking a deep breath, he said, “Then I'm going back. Maybe...”

   “Fine,” Harper said. “I'm going with you.” Turning to Garland, she said, “Brief Lieutenant Francis as best you can, Spaceman, and request that he hold station for as long as he possibly can. If that's not an option, then tell him he leaves with my blessing.”

   “This is crazy,” Garland said, strapping Orlova into position. “You're going up against a whole army of those...things, by yourself? They'll wipe you out.” He shook his head, and said, “I've fought them once. I wouldn't want to fight them again.”

   “Maybe,” she replied. “And maybe not. All I know is that I can't leave the Sphere without at least making the attempt to rescue Pavel and the others. That's enough for me.” Turning to Lombardo, she ordered, “Get it started. I'll be along in a minute.” She walked over to Orlova, drifting in and out of consciousness, savage wounds on her side, and said, “Don't worry, Captain. I've got this. You just worry about yourself. And Alamo.”

   “Wait a damned minute, ma'am,” Garland said. “Shouldn't you call Alamo? Get permission from Lieutenant Francis? At least tell him what you're planning to do. Damn it, Lieutenant, there's a good chance we'll have to leave you behind!””

   Lombardo walked into the bullet, and after a moment, said, “All systems go, Lieutenant!”

   “There's no time, Spaceman,” she replied. “And besides, we both know what the answer would be. Pavel and the others need help. That's enough for me. Good luck, and a safe ride home.”

   “Kris, we're ready!” Lombardo yelled. “Engine charging!”

    “Right,” she said, turning away from the two crewmen at the buggy, following Lombardo into the vehicle. The inside was a mess, blood spilled across the floor, mud and sline on every chair. Only the two seats at the front were in any sort of order. Lombardo was sitting at the controls, looking up with an easy smile.

   “Say the word, Kris.”

   “Consider it said.”

   With the tap of a button, he closed the doors, and the vehicle began to rise, slowly turning to face back the way it came, the engineer carefully manipulating the controls, all of them labeled in precise English.

   “Our friends at the base must have spent years figuring this out. Nice of them to leave instructions.” At her expression, he added, “Magnetic levitation. More powerful than anything I've ever seen. You wait until we get started.” Gesturing at a couch, he added, “Take a seat. This is pretty wild.” As the bullet lined up with the distant desert, she took one last look at the buggy, Garland standing next to the wounded Orlova. Her last link to home, and one that she was about to sever.

   “Here we go,” he said, throwing a lever full forward. The force of acceleration slammed her back in her couch, the landscape starting to race past them, the familiar crack of a vehicle exceeding the sound barrier after less than a minute. She looked across at Lombardo with disbelief, and the engineer looked back with glee.

   “This baby can ride up to fifteen hundred miles an hour at ground level. I made it back in a little over five hours, and we might even manage a bit more speed on the return, now that I'm getting used to the controls.” Looking at the screen, he added, “There's a magnetic ram up ahead, pushing the air out of the way. Effectively, we're traveling through vacuum. I'd hate t
o be standing on the tracks, though! You wouldn't have a chance.”

   “Five hours,” she said. “Can he hold out for that long?” They flashed past the forest, racing towards a distant mountain range, the ground outside visibly growing more and more arid as they moved. Another collection of ruins raced by, the landscape a blur as they accelerated to maximum speed. A second sonic boom erupted, the train passing Mach Two. Almost inconceivably fast, but now that the acceleration had reduced, it was only the view outside that gave any indication that they were moving at all.

   “He's going to have to,” Lombardo replied. “We know that it was going to take time to call for help, Kris. He expected that. Though I'd rather have brought more reinforcements back with me. I somehow feel as though I've let him down.”

   “One Espatier isn't enough for you?” Fox asked, stepping out of the shadows at the rear of the train. “You didn't really think I'd pass up a chance like this, did you? The buggy can guide itself back to the shuttle, and Garland will be safely home long before it gets dark.” Nodding at the armament strapped to her back, she continued, “I brought all three plasma rifles, and three spare assault rifles.” Tossing a holdall to the ground, she added, “And a few other useful gadgets, as well. I think between the three of us, we should be able to teach those scientists a few tricks.”

   “I hope so,” Lombardo replied. “We're going right into Hell, Sergeant. And we're outnumbered a few thousand to one.”

   “Bad odds,” Fox said. “For them.”

  Chapter 18

   This time, Salazar had been locked into a more obvious cell, cold metal walls and a pile of rags on the floor to serve as a bed, a bucket in the corner as a toilet. They'd stripped all of his equipment from him, given him a pale jumpsuit to wear instead of his uniform, and left him to rot for what seemed like hours. A while ago, he'd heard sirens echoing through the base, and had briefly hoped for rescue, but the alarm had faded without any other sign of trouble, and he'd settled back in to wait. Sooner or later, someone would come for him, and if he had any chance to get away, he'd take it. If Orlova could hide out in the lower levels, so could he. At least Lombardo had made it safely away. Sooner or later, help would be coming. He just had to live long enough to enjoy the party.