It was utterly dark outside, and he switched on his night vision enhancement. Standing at the top of the ramp, he looked all around, seeing nothing but shapes that he couldn’t quite comprehend.

  The atmosphere of Scalos was thin – enough to turn the warship’s propulsion sound into a dull throbbing. Not only that, but he could hear the groaning and scraping of precariously balanced metal. He looked for the transport, and saw it less than a hundred metres from the lower end of the boarding ramp.

  “Let’s have some light,” Lanson said.

  He ordered his suit computer to form a remote link to the shuttle’s onboard systems. When that was done, he turned on the transport’s hull lights. Beams of yellow lanced out from positions on the vessel’s flanks, topsides, and undersides.

  Lanson began his descent of the boarding ramp steps. He held tightly to the rail and looked around him. The shuttle light was comforting, but it was hardly more than a puddle when judged against the immensity of both the New Beginning and the wreckage that was resting on top of it.

  Looking up, Lanson could make out the vast section of the Sagh’eld lifter, which was balanced on the New Beginning’s topsides, and sloped down towards the planet’s surface where it rested. The light was insufficient for Lanson to gauge the risks of the alloy slab slipping, and he hurried onwards, trying to block out the noises of stressed metal which hinted at much but showed little.

  Elsewhere, the gap through which the transport had entered was visible on the extreme edges of the vessel’s light. What lay beyond was shrouded in darkness.

  When he arrived at the bottom of the ramp, Lanson checked once to make sure his crew was with him, and then he broke into a run. The surface was loose and gritty, and, from down here, it wasn’t clear that he was inside an impact crater.

  By the time he reached the shuttle, Lanson’s combat suit was covered in grey dust which his footsteps had kicked up as he ran. The transport’s forward flank door was already open and he climbed the few steps into the airlock. Turning, Lanson watched as the rest of his crew entered the space and then he activated the airlock cycle, which was finished in only a few seconds.

  Soon, Lanson was inside the shuttle’s cockpit, with Commander Matlock sitting to his right and Lieutenant Turner to his left.

  The shuttle’s sensors weren’t troubled by darkness, so Lanson killed the hull lights. Checking the feeds, he saw little that hadn’t already been visible from within the New Beginning, though he did have a better view of how unstable the lifter wreckage appeared.

  “That slab might come down at any moment,” Lanson said.

  “Best take care with the propulsion in case you shake something loose, Captain,” said Matlock.

  Lanson nodded but didn’t reply. He took hold of the transport’s control joysticks, requested power from the engines and lifted the vessel steadily away from the planet’s surface. The slab didn’t visibly move, but Lanson wasn’t reassured. Given how much crap he’d endured in recent hours, he was ready for more bad luck.

  “Our comms link to Sergeant Gabriel is confirmed, Captain,” said Lieutenant Turner.

  “I’ll speak to him once we’re away from this wreckage,” said Lanson.

  He clenched his jaw as he piloted the transport slowly towards the opening three hundred metres ahead. Without warning, the lifter slab shifted, dropping a few metres down from the New Beginning’s topsides. Lanson cursed at the sight. Abandoning the slow and steady approach, he pushed the transport to maximum acceleration.

  With a surge, the vessel raced through the opening and emerged into the crater formed by the New Beginning’s recent impact. Lanson’s eyes went to the rear feeds and he watched as the huge slab dropped another few dozen metres, and then began to slowly tilt.

  By now, the transport was well beyond any danger presented by the wreckage, and Lanson brought the vessel to a standstill.

  “We’re heading to Ilvaron,” he said, keeping one eye on the slab. It tilted only a little further and then stabilised. “Sergeant Gabriel, are you there?”

  “Yes, Captain,” said Gabriel on the cockpit speakers.

  “Have you confirmed the precise coordinates of the control station yet?”

  “Negative, sir. We’re still looking.”

  “We can’t wait, Sergeant. I’m going to warm up this shuttle for lightspeed, and give it a three hundred metre offset from the known coordinates,” said Lanson. “If you later discover those coordinates are wrong—” Lanson took a deep breath. Nobody wanted the coordinates to be wrong, not given the time pressures on the mission.

  “I’ll let you know, Captain,” said Gabriel.

  Lanson went quiet for a few seconds as he punched the lightspeed destination coordinates into the shuttle’s navigational system. The backend computer accepted the details and presented him with a fifteen-minute timer. Lanson stared at the timer for a moment. It was going to be a long wait.

  “We’ll be with you in fifteen minutes, Sergeant,” said Lanson. “As long as those destination coordinates work in our favour.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Let me know if you see any sign of these new aliens.”

  “The Ragnar-3’s access bridges are still clear, Captain. I’ve been studying the base map and trying to estimate how long it’ll take the enemy to reach the bay, but there are several entry points to this facility and, in addition, I don’t know if they’re already familiar with the layout.”

  “We’re at the mercy of the clock, Sergeant,” said Lanson. He chewed his lip in thought. “There’s a lot riding on whether or not the Ragnar-3’s security systems will authenticate us. And there’s just as much riding on whether or not the warship’s systems are online. If it’s in a state of partial sleep, it might take time before it’s ready for operation.”

  “Plus we have to figure out how to pilot the damn thing,” said Matlock.

  Lanson had another question, which he hadn’t remembered to ask because of everything else that was happening.

  “Sergeant Gabriel, is there any sign of an exit from that bay – one large enough to accommodate the Ragnar-3?”

  “No, sir, but this doesn’t look like a construction yard, so it got in here somehow.” Gabriel was quiet for a moment. “If the enemy believe they’re about to lose the Ragnar-3, will they destroy the vessel?”

  “That’s what the smart money says,” said Lanson.

  “The timing’s going to be tight.”

  “It’s something we’ll have to handle, Sergeant.”

  Lanson glanced at his console and grimaced when he saw that the timer had only dropped by ninety seconds. He rolled his shoulders, hoping to relieve some of the tension, but it didn’t help.

  Then, Lanson recalled something from earlier. “So where did the daylight go?” he asked. “We couldn’t see what happened to the light when we were inside the superheavy’s cargo bay.”

  “I’m scanning for the local star, sir,” said Turner. “We might have overlooked something because of everything else that was happening.”

  “I don’t think we have, Lieutenant.”

  Turner’s scans were soon finished. “There’s no star in the sky and there’s no sign of light across any of the horizons, Captain.”

  “This side of Scalos should definitely still be in its day cycle,” said Lieutenant Abrams, from over by the cockpit’s rear bulkhead.

  “A star can’t just disappear,” said Turner.

  “Infinity Lens,” said Lanson, recalling Sergeant Gabriel’s words. “And do you remember how all of those cubes vanished from the storage facility here on Scalos? We know how much power was stored within the one-metre Galos device. Imagine what might happen if the potential of millions of such devices was unleashed?”

  “They might destroy a star,” said Matlock.

  “Or extract its energy, leaving what’s left to collapse,” said Lanson. He raised his voice. “Sergeant Gabriel, how long is left on your singularity timer?”

  “One hour and five minutes, Captain.”

  Lanson did what he should have done earlier, and set an equivalent timer on his own HUD. “I don’t know what the hell is going on here,” he said. “Maybe those cubes from the Scalos facility burned out the local star in order to power the Infinity Lens, or maybe the star itself has been turned into the Infinity Lens.”

  “Whichever it is, I’d prefer to be watching from a safer distance than four billion klicks,” said Gabriel.

  “You and me both,” said Lanson.

  For a moment, he closed his eyes and wished he were anywhere but here. This was the strangest situation he’d ever encountered in all his years in the military and he couldn’t foresee a positive outcome.

  The shuttle’s lightspeed timer counted down.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “Five minutes left on the lightspeed timer,” said Lanson, speaking just to break the silence which had descended upon the cockpit.

  “Captain, Private Wolf isn’t having any luck with confirming the destination coordinates,” said Gabriel. “In addition, I’ve accessed a few of the menus that relate to the Ragnar-3’s operation, but I don’t want to risk breaking anything.”

  “Leave the operational menus alone for now, Sergeant,” said Lanson. “We’ll be with you soon enough, as long as the destination coordinates are right.”

  He desperately hoped those coordinates were right, since a last-moment discovery to the contrary would oblige him to cancel the lightspeed timer and start it again with a new destination and another fifteen-minute warmup duration.

  Then came some bad news.

  “Captain, a squad of aliens has emerged onto one of the bridges leading to the Ragnar-3,” said Gabriel. “It’s the same new type as we saw on Scalos.”

  Lanson swore. “I wonder how they’re planning to break into the warship.”

  “They don’t have any equipment with them, sir,” said Gabriel. “But the ones on Scalos didn’t seem to have any problems with the facility security.”

  “You told me that their warship was extracting data directly through those console pillars,” said Lanson.

  “That’s what I believed at the time, Captain.”

  “It’s probable the enemy warship has a way to subvert the local comms systems,” said Turner. “That way their deployment forces wouldn’t need to bring any additional security breaking equipment.”

  “There’re now fifteen aliens on the main bridge, sir,” said Gabriel. “And I can see another squad on a different bridge.”

  “What are they doing?” asked Lanson.

  “They’re all just standing around about a third of the way towards the Ragnar-3,” said Gabriel. “And now it looks as if they’re using the Sagh’eld corpses for target practice.”

  “They sound like a bunch of Grade A assholes,” said Matlock.

  “Yes, ma’am, that’s what I think too,” said Gabriel.

  “Two minutes on the lightspeed timer,” said Lanson. “Can you see any evidence these aliens are carrying explosive weapons? This shuttle is armoured, but I doubt it’ll absorb any more than a single rocket strike.”

  “I can’t see any shoulder tubes, Captain, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t carrying explosives in a form I don’t recognize,” said Gabriel. “Or that they don’t have rocket troops inbound.”

  “We’ll have to take it as it comes,” said Lanson. “Commander Matlock knows how to aim a nose gun, so hopefully we’ll be able to cut these bastards to pieces before they can trouble us with their weapons.”

  The seconds counted down, and Lanson kept his eyes glued to the timer as the moment of truth approached. If the destination coordinates took the shuttle to a surface antenna on Ilvaron, there was an excellent chance the transport would be detected and annihilated by the huge alien warship. On the other hand, if the coordinates were those of the control station, a greater-than-expected variation in the lightspeed jump might still see the vessel fused with one of the bay walls, or the Ragnar-3.

  Realising he was allowing his doubts to take over, Lanson summoned up his anger and allowed it to wash through him. He settled into cold calmness and stared at the timer in challenge.

  “Ten seconds,” he said.

  When the countdown timer hit zero, the shuttle entered lightspeed with a rumbling expulsion from its engines. In a warship like the New Beginning, the journey would have been over in less than the blinking of an eye, but the transport’s lightspeed multiplier was low enough that a full four seconds passed before it re-entered local space.

  “Waiting on the sensors,” said Turner.

  Lanson held tight to the control sticks and made no effort to put the shuttle into motion. Instead, he watched the sensor feeds, wondering how long the arrays would take to come back online. While it was blind to the outside world, the transport and its crew were enormously vulnerable.

  “Sensors coming up!” said Turner.

  The feeds appeared on the screens above the cockpit’s three-person console and Lanson’s heart jumped when he saw that the vessel was within the target bay. The margins had been tight – less than twenty metres to portside, the massive flank of what could only be the Ragnar-3 rose high above like a cliff of smooth alloy. Far below, the bay floor was visible, and the linking bridges were just as Sergeant Gabriel had described them.

  “Hostiles sighted,” said Commander Matlock.

  Lanson saw them too – aliens in dark combat suits were sprinting along the nearest bridge, aiming for the safety of the bay wall entrances, rather than the Ragnar-3.

  “Let’s see how their energy shields work against our nose repeater,” said Lanson. Rotating the shuttle about its vertical axis, he pointed the transport towards the bay wall. “Kill them, Commander Matlock.”

  “With pleasure, sir.”

  The transport’s six-barrel repeater fired with a drone that was heard in the cockpit, as the gun spewed a torrent of high-calibre projectiles towards the fleeing aliens. Such was the power of the weapon that Lanson saw no sign of the enemy shields activating. Instead, the aliens were ripped apart as Commander Matlock chased them down.

  Lanson watched grimly as pulverised corpses belonging to both the Sagh’eld and these new aliens, were thrown from the edge of the bridge by the force of the impacts.

  “We’ve got others to starboard, Captain,” warned Lieutenant Turner.

  “I see them,” said Lanson.

  The aliens on the midsection bridge – about twenty in total and a few hundred metres away – were brazenly firing their gauss rifles from a position about thirty metres outside the tunnel leading into the bay wall. Lanson wasn’t concerned about gauss projectiles, but he was wary against a surprise rocket attack.

  Commander Matlock made short work of the aliens on the nearest bridge, and the moment he saw the last one fall, Lanson rotated the transport towards the second group of aliens.

  “Lieutenant Turner, we need to find the entrance to the control room,” said Lanson.

  “I’ve been looking for it, Captain, but there are dozens of windows in the bay wall and they have reflective surfaces so I can’t see what’s beyond.”

  “Speak to Sergeant Gabriel – he might be able to guide you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A fusillade of bullets took down the second group of aliens in only a few seconds, and Commander Matlock let the gun fall idle. Lanson decided the shuttle’s current vantage was good enough and he held the vessel in place while he watched the bay wall entrances for signs of more aliens.

  “I see movement,” said Matlock suddenly. “In the main bridge entrance.”

  Lanson thought he saw a flicker of something, but then it was gone. However, the sighting triggered his instincts and he sent the shuttle into a steep dive, just as a rocket sped from the bay wall opening.

  The fast repositioning of the shuttle was enough, and the rocket detonated against the edge of the bridge as it dipped to follow the plummeting transport.

  “That was a big explosion for a shoulder-launched weapon,” said Lanson. “It’ll be touch-and-go whether we’d survive a single strike.”

  As he spoke, his eyes jumped from place to place as he sought out other openings in the bay wall from which the enemy might launch yet more attacks. The linking bridges were both clear, but he suspected the aliens would soon be in position to launch missiles at the transport from several different locations. Lanson could fly a shuttle, but he was under no illusions that he’d be able to dodge rockets all day.

  “Lieutenant Turner, we’re running out of time,” said Lanson.

  “I’m highlighting three possible targets, Captain,” said Turner. “Sergeant Gabriel and his squad are keeping their heads low, so Commander Matlock can safely take out the windows.”

  “But try not to wreck the control hardware, Commander,” said Lanson.

  “I’ve got the targets, sir,” said Matlock. “I’ll aim high.”

  Less than a hundred metres separated the three windows and she fired a short burst from the nose gun into the highest one. The window’s surface splintered, but it didn’t break.

  “Let’s hope our gun has the impact force to shatter that material,” said Matlock.

  “Sergeant Gabriel reports that you hit the wrong window, Commander,” said Turner. “He says you need to aim for the lower one to the right.”

  “Lower and to the right,” Matlock confirmed.

  She fired the nose gun once more and this time she didn’t let up for five or six seconds. When the gun stopped, the window was still in one piece.

  “Sergeant Gabriel confirms you’re hitting the right target, Commander,” said Turner. “He has also offered a reminder that when news reaches the enemy warship that we’re still alive, they’ll probably fire their death weapon into the facility again. Apparently the second time isn’t as bad as the first.”

  “I’ll give the window another burst,” said Matlock.

  She activated the gun once again and repeater projectiles drummed into the window. Meanwhile, Lanson kept much of his attention on the visible tunnel openings. The enemy were up to something, of that there was no doubt, so he kept the shuttle close to the largest bridge in the hope of cutting out their firing angle.