Assault on Ambrose Station: A Seth Donovan Novel (39 page)

62.

We continued our relentless climb and it wasn’t long before we reached the surface. One last long, winding stairwell brought us through a dense copse of ropy vegetation and then we realised that we had broken through. The funnels were still rising, but we could make out the sky through the thick canopy. The air took on a change as well. For one who spends most of their life breathing recycled air in an enclosed space, such as a starship, planetary air was something oddly pungent, yet somehow familiar.

Renthal and Harris, the first to reach the top, grasped each other’s shoulders in a brotherly embrace. Even Kekkin smiled as he helped Rego the last few steps. I stopped and stretched, yawning a mighty sigh. Triptych, hauling the last of the gear with Geko and Art, muttered a heartfelt benediction to his ancestors and the galaxy at large.

“How’s the ribs?” I asked, handing him a canteen.

“Tender. All this heavy breathing isn’t helping.”

I looked around us. We were in a clearing in what appeared to be a dense jungle. The algae had abated somewhat, but there was still thick overgrowths of regular plant life. Lastly, I checked the hole from which we had crawled.

“Let’s see if we can close up this stairwell. I don’t want any of those critters coming up to attack us again. Once it’s secure, this is a good a place as any to set up a forward base. Trip, how’s your climbing?”

He looked up at the tree analogues all about us. He knew what I was thinking.

“I can get up there no problem with the exo-rig, this tree here looks high enough for me to stick the drone pod on.”

“Good, you’re in charge of setting up drone launch bays. I want as many recon drones in the air as soon as possible. We shouldn’t need to set up an antenna, we’re still connected to the rail system below. We lucked out on that one. Kekkin, organise the rest to set up a perimeter and see if we can get sensor pods stationed a hundred metres and two hundred metres around us.”

Tac and Rego were a few metres away, going over technical specifications of some sort. I listened in, but was unable to work out what they were discussing. Tac turned to me after a few moments.

“Seth, the Private and I have devised a more efficient method for locating Mr. Blackburn. Using the mag rail antenna set up we established, we should be able to ping the existing interface overlay implants. I have engineered an algorithm that will sort the implant signatures and isolate our target. The recon drones can then triangulate the source and give us a location.”

“How long will it take to set up?”

“We will be ready the moment the drones are launched. It will take some time to sort the implant codes, however, depending on how many are actually present.”

“The last count of refugees here was just over two hundred thousand people. Given there has been almost twenty years since the Betrayal, those numbers would have dropped.”

“Do not discount the rate of births, however,” he said, “there were many families present during that time. There would be a whole new generation here now.”

“But I doubt they would have interface overlay implants.”

“Ah. Of course.”

“Go ahead with the plan. Keep me and Artemis informed, we want to move the moment we have intel.”

The squad went into action, Triptych climbing the tree effortlessly with a drone pod strapped to his back and the others breaking up into pairs to patrol. Art and I went to work setting up the camp defences – a pair of motions sensors and a small portable turret.

An hour later, when the others returned, I was happy the camp was secure enough to relax. The recon drones had launched and Tac was reporting a multitude of inactive overlay implants connecting to the array we had established inside the sub-structure mag rail.

We settled in for a proper rest period, letting the squad sleep in watches. We ate while I went over images from the recon drones of settlements nearby.

For the most part, the settlements were made from existing buildings that were run down and powerless, with farmland cleared around them. A few were constructed entirely from debris and wood, cut from the assortment of trees that grew in the habitat grounds.

The most significant thing, though, was the view of the habitat ring. In either direction, the ring rose in ever narrowing arcs that faded into blue. Approximately forty kilometres from our position was one of the habitat’s spokes – wide, tubular shafts that led to the central hub. The hub was a sphere over a hundred kilometres in diameter. Its mirrored surface served as a reflector for the system’s sun, the star named Gossamer. It also provided a means for starships and shuttles to dock with the habitat and gain entrance to the main habitat. In a normal, functional orbital, this would be the primary access for civilian starcraft.

“It’s almost like a warzone out there,” mentioned Art as she scanned the images herself, “I haven’t seen a single structure that hasn’t been picked at or scavenged.”

“A lot of people were left here, remember. They were not exactly prepared to forgo technology for a few decades.”

“How did they manage to get food growing? It’s not like an orbital is prime produce land. Only fifteen percent of it was covered in arable soil.”

“The good ship Kastalothon.”

“The who?”

“When it was obvious to everyone what was going down here, there was a bulk hauler named the Kastalothon that was transporting grains and other foodstuffs to the colony on Nsarri. When they realised they weren’t going to make it, the Captain ordered his crew to abandon ship and tried to land it on Ambrose. The crazy bastard almost made it too.”

“The cargo?”

“Enough containers made it to the habitat in serviceable condition that the refugees were able to start up a co-op farm. Guess they managed to get it going over the years and it became sustainable. That’s the Protectorate’s best guess, anyway. Maybe there were enough auto-chefs to go around, and they were lucky enough that there were food chemists to manufacture materials for them.”

“What’s our plan if Osiris is up there?” she pointed to the distant diametrically opposite section of the ring above us.

“It’s a long way to go. We’ll need to secure transportation.”

“I think that should be our first priority, actually. We need to be mobile.”

“Maybe we can barter with one of the settlements nearby.”

“You know they won’t give it up. We’re going to need to take it.”

I sighed. I knew she was right. I had come here to liberate these people, not steal from them. I certainly did not want to shoot at them.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“I’m going to focus my search on finding a viable vehicle – you need to get your head around how we’re going to take it.”

I knew we were running out of time. We only had a few days to find Osiris Blackburn before we would lose our window to get out of the Gossamer System for good. We could not afford to spend that time travelling. Securing transportation, preferably something fast, would increase our chances of success significantly.

Art could see that I was thinking it through, and when I’d come to the same realisation as she, she nodded grimly at me.

“We don’t have to kill anyone. These guys are good enough to take it by stealth. We just need it quick.”

“Alright, I understand. We need it.”

“LT!” called Rego, “Call up the feed from drone 2-2-whiskey. You need to see this.”

I did as he suggested and the live video feed filled my overlay. The images showed a violent clash between two groups. One group was defending a settlement from behind ramshackle walls, while another assaulted it. There were a few energy weapons in the mix, but for the most part it was done with spears, bows and other crude weaponry. The defence was not going well, and as I watched I saw an explosion, then a segment of wall collapsed. Dozens of attackers surged through the breach, slaughtering anyone in the way. What happened next sickened me.

There were women and men fighting, but when a group of attackers entered one of the buildings a score of children ran screaming out into the fray. They were butchered like animals. Even Art looked paled by what she saw.

“Seems resources are not as abundant as we were led to believe.” she said, her tone a mix of cynicism and despair.

“Check out that trio by the burning building.” mentioned Rego.

“What are they doing?”

“They’ll pull away in a moment, you’ll see.”

In a few minutes, when all of the defenders died, the trio of attackers had carved a symbol on the side of the building. We had seen the same symbol in the atmospheric facility below.

“How far away is that settlement?” I asked Tac.

“Drone 2-2-whiskey is currently three-hundred and forty-eight kilometres away. Sending you the waypoint on your overlay.”

“There’s another one,” said Art, “Drone 3-1-bravo – it’s an older site, already destroyed. Probably a week or so ago. They burnt that symbol into the field.”

“What in the galaxy are they doing?”

“Raiding.” said Kekkin, “Taking what they can.”

“I see more,” said Rego, “Same story.”

The realisation of the state of civilisation, of the depth that society had fallen here, struck us silent for several minutes. We flicked through the scenes of destruction, barbarity and savagery, mouths agape.

“I’ve found him,” said Art. We all turned to face her, “I’ve found Osiris Blackburn.”

63.

Eleven-hundred kilometres from our camp stood the ruins of a white tower, surrounded by concentric rings of smaller buildings. It seemed out of place, before we realised that the structure had been kept in almost functional form over the years. The very top of the tower, shorn off by some calamity years ago, lay along the ringward edge closest to the Gossamer star. The upper levels of the tower were exposed to the elements, but we could make out the repair work done to limit the ingress of rain.

Immediately before the tower, a garden of lush vegetables and other edible plants grew, irrigated by a suspended system of hoses and pipes. There was easily enough food grown there to feed hundreds of people, but the activity around the complex revealed far larger numbers.

It was a settlement larger than any we had seen so far, complete with working power and armed patrols of the outer ring of buildings. Patrols armed with modern weapons.

“He’s there.” stated Art, certainty on her face, “If there was ever an effort to rebuild some semblance of power within the habitat, he would be a part of it, if not in charge.”

“You sure he’s not driving one of those raiding hordes?” I asked, “He was a pretty nasty character, according to Maxine.”

“No. He’ll know his best chance of survival is in building a strong establishment and gathering as much technology as the Ghantri would let him have.”

“Those raiders have to know where that place is. Sooner or later, they’ll band together to assault it. The weapons and tech there alone would make it worth it.”

“
Naga-zak
is right,” said Kekkin, “See the pattern of attacks within a hundred clicks of the fortress?”

“Fortress?” I asked.

“It fits,” said Art, “Those ringed structures are fortified, not just living quarters.”

“I have filtered the recon drone pings to only query those near that location,” explained Tac, “and I can confirm that Blackburn’s overlay is indeed active within that zone.”

After scanning the surrounding area, I saw what Kekkin was trying to point out.

“They’ve attacked almost every settlement on the outskirts of that tower.” I said.

“Scorched earth.” said Art, “They’re cutting him off from resupply.”

“The last two settlements nearby are within range of those bands of raiders, here and here,” explained Kekkin, “They’ll converge with these other groups within a day, and begin their siege of the fortress.”

“How many raiders do you estimate will be in that group?”

“At least fourteen thousand. Probably closer to fifteen.”

“There’s no way they can hold out,” said Art, “We have to get to him as soon as possible.”

“I agree. Harris, Geko, I want you two to keep an eye out for transportation of any kind. Land, or air, doesn’t matter. When you locate it, go and get it. Do whatever you need to acquire it.”

The pair nodded and put their heads together, commandeering several drones for their task. I left Art to keep an eye on the fortress complex, while I got together with Kekkin and Renthal to see what could be done to strengthen what defences we could see. Triptych and Rego got to work on reconnaissance of the route we would need to take to get to our target.

Within two hours, Harris reported they had located a viable vehicle in a settlement not far from our location. The settlement had already been hit by the raiders, so all of the people there were dead, or had run away. I sent them off with my blessing, thankful we did not have to shoot innocent people to get what we needed.

There was no point in waiting around for the vehicle to reach us, so I ordered the camp abandoned and we began our march towards the fortress. Harris and Geko would rendezvous with us once they had their prize.

The fortuitous finding of our quarry seemed to have buoyed our morale, in the wake of our recent losses. We were on track to achieving our objective and we had a clear path to getting there. We knew it was not going to be easy, but at least we could see it. In addition, best of all, we were free of the oppressive warrens below the surface.

We marched for four hours, making good distance, before meeting up with Harris and Geko again. They drove a beat-up flatbed hauler, the kind of hauler found in cargo facilities across the galaxy. Harris reported that Geko had once again proven his mechanical aptitude in getting the thing functional again.

We loaded our gear, climbed on board and cheerfully let the hauler carry our arses across the ruined landscape.

Ambrose Station, if completed before being captured by the Ghantri, would have served as a major population centre for the star system. The most expensive, and dangerous, part of space travel was entering and leaving planetary bodies. The presence of atmosphere limited the speed a ship could travel, and the pull of gravity required immense levels of acceleration in order to escape or land safely. It was a careful balance, one even seasoned pilots sometimes screwed up.

The need for such measures was negated if one did not need to land the larger vessels. Keeping starships in space meant smaller, more precise vessels could manage the dangerous transits, or the problem could be removed through engineering solutions – such as space elevators. The result is that once a civilisation reaches a certain level of technology, the presence of permanent space fixtures became an economic necessity.

Such industries required people to maintain. Permanently housing these people at the fixtures was safer and more economical than transporting them planetside. Permanently housing them, meant they brought their families. Families, and other people, meant a population that also needed feeding and entertaining. This meant commercial interests. Commerce meant more industry, and so on.

Habitats such as Ambrose Station were meant to serve as a commercial and industrial focus for a region, and supported populations that migrated from other star systems for work and other opportunities. The living spaces of the habitat, therefore, were strewn with the trappings of commercial enterprises and industrial projects. Office complexes, shopping centres, processing plants, manufacturing facilities and residential buildings dotted the landscape. Most were in various stages of construction, lacking the vital components for their operation. Many were merely husks of their planned forms, skeletal frames and scaffolding left to rust and fall into disrepair. Scavenging had done the rest.

Left unregulated, the atmospheric system continued to pump out weather. Pressure fronts formed and rains eroded carefully designed decorative gardens, washing away soils and forming natural lakes and rivers in depressions, streets and avenues.

We passed through one such front – drenching us, but providing a much-needed wash. We were positively filthy after our misadventure below. The lightning that accompanied the downpour was violent, but only served to invigorate us for our coming ordeal.

For the first time in a long time, I was able to rest. My dreams, always haunted by the darkness within me, were strangely peaceful and I slept through a large part of the storm. I awoke, hours later, to overcast skies above the outer reaches of Osiris’ fortress.

I felt relaxed, calm even. I knew that beyond these outer walls an end to this odyssey was within reach. If saving even these few thousand people was possible, that was enough for me to accept. I knew their lives would not bring Eric back, or Carro, Gunther, Masters or Rhondel, but it would at least mean their deaths would have meaning. It would appease the guilt that I felt for the loss of my former squad.

At the end of it all, I would at last be able to put this chapter of my life behind me.