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Authors: Steve Wheeler

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BOOK: Crystal Venom
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The major cleared his throat and launched into his briefing. ‘OK, people. From what you can see it is relatively straightforward. We will slice the nose cone away with our primary lasers, hook drones onto it and make it secure. We then place the Busters and launch the rest of the Hauler into the local sun. The Busters will be set to detonate in sequence to shred the Hauler and force it into the star’s photosphere and so ensure its destruction. We will then slice up the nose until the AI Core is exposed and we’ll encase that in the diamond interlocking plates the salvage guys brought with them. We destroy the debris generated. Yeah, easy. Like hell it is! This plan is full of hooks, so I need everyone to know everyone else’s job. Major van Beere.’

 

The major then took them through the equipment his detachment had brought along, and how he intended to recover the AI. He had a surprising amount of information on the urchins and of the advanced ways they were now being dealt with; it seemed that all Stephine’s research on the creatures had paid off bigtime. He also showed, then uploaded to Patrick, all the communication languages, including definitions, that the urchins used. The belief was that they were just on the cusp of true sentience.

 

He then handed the briefing over to Stephine. Initially, she laid out the information on biological hazards, and how the crew would be affected if any of them became infected. They might have their central nervous system taken over and be forced to make random movements; they might develop a terrible paranoia of absolutely everything, or the weapons could turn anyone into a berserker. And once the energy levels dropped below a certain point, the weapon would then use the body as a host to produce infected material, and the individual would gradually turn to fluid, first running, then walking and, finally, crawling in any random direction spreading the material far and wide before finally succumbing.

 

Other weapons created reactions that would range through many human diseases, thus overwhelming medical facilities, before allowing the host to recover, and then causing the body to do it all over again until death occurred months later. Some nasties seemingly would not affect the host, but might produce violent and extremely difficult to detect DNA changes in offspring so that, in time, children could also go berserk.

 

The crew listening to this catalogue of horror, thought that the people who designed the weapons must have been monsters. Then again, Infant was such a terrible conflict that the Administration had taken the unprecedented step of detonating the Infant system’s star as it judged the contaminations were that bad. The four Haulers — of which
Cactus 3
was one — had gathered their toxic cargos from outer system orbiters or small colonies.

 

Stephine then laid out everyone’s responsibilities, including cooking, cleaning and general housework. The outward journey would take almost ten weeks so they had plenty of time.

 

Veg explained the training and combat routines set for them, then finally Jan took them through fitness and advised of medical enhancements for their own bio-systems, which would inoculate them from the nasties, in spite of what Stephine had told them.

 

At the conclusion Stephine had a warning for them. ‘From the information that the colonel returned with, the conclusion is that someone or something has gained access to the weapons. We believe that they have evolved either naturally or by design. However, due to the relatively short time period, I would say that natural evolution is unlikely, especially considering the extent of the changes to the Hauler. We need to be very, very careful. Get this into your heads: if any one of you becomes infected, and that infection is not covered by the inoculations, you will not be allowed back on
Basalt.
End of story.’

 

~ * ~

 

Life settled down over the next few weeks, even down to the level of cooking as the
Basalt
crew took it upon themselves to train the salvage guys, in one way or another, in the art of preparing something to eat.

 

Roger Ngata, one of the WO1s, took great delight in learning as much as possible from Stephine about the gardens and the trees. He had been in the military for a very long time and was loving the opportunity to enhance his life experiences with his new-found green fingers. He was often seen by
Basalt’s
crew looking closely at the blooms that grew apparently randomly from
Basalt’s
walls and ceilings, and giving the ship a little pat.

 

Marko discovered that one of the tech sergeants, Minh Pham, was a good baker. He spoke of a long-held tradition in his family that the males did the baking, but for the last twenty years or so he had not been able to get close to an oven, except on the rare occasion that he visited his family. Minh was a superb pastry chef, but had never baked heavy-grained bread loaves, so he was fun for Marko to teach and also to learn from.

 

Veg would gather everyone in the engineering hangar each morning before breakfast, and again in mid-afternoon, training them hard in some obscure martial art or other. Sergeant Ban asked him what style he followed and Veg replied that he studied ‘all of them’.

 

‘I note, venerated Captain Veg, that you have a most interesting style in your stick fighting. It seems to be a mixture of three primary ancient art forms. I should be most interested in going full contact if you would honour me.’

 

Veg allowed himself a tiny smile. ‘Very well, training is complete for the day. Hit the showers, people. Sergeant Ban, select your stick.’

 

Nobody moved as no one had any intention of missing the fight. Jan leant close to Marko and whispered, ‘Sergeant Thao Ban has cleaned up in just about every stick-fighting tournament over the last twenty years. This is going to be interesting.’

 

Marko cocked his head and smiled at her. ‘Really, Jan, you always amaze me with your knowledge of martial themes. By the way, is the colonel bi? I have seen her admiring your bum on more than one occasion.’

 

‘Yes. How do you know I’m not the same?’

 

‘Tease!’

 

Both men selected their bo’s from the rack. Veg towered over Ban, but when stripped down to the waist, Ban was also heavily muscled.

 

They both addressed the mat, bowed to it, bowed to the audience, to each other and then for the next fifteen minutes gave a superb display of stick fighting. Ban was very good, but Marko had the distinct feeling that he was no match for Veg. Veg took a couple of whacks, but seemed not to strike Ban very hard when he landed hits. Ban was starting to become angry and yelled something at Veg in a language Marko had not heard before. Veg roared with laughter and in a blindingly fast series of blows spun Ban around, then levered him high into the air while giving him dozens of light taps all over his body before Ban hit the floor rolling. Ban stood up, bowed, apologised to Veg and then asked him to be his sensei. Veg just nodded and suggested that they have a discussion over a beer and pickles.

 

~ * ~

 

A few days later Jan went up against Ban. Veg quietly padded around the exterior of the practice floor, a gentle smile on his face, as Jan gave Ban a solid thrashing. The poor man looked surprised and then dramatically taken aback as she used the techniques and dance that Veg had taught them all — except Fritz, who could not see the point — over the long years as
Basalt
had made its way home after its wormhole generating propulsion systems were damaged and they had used comets as fuel to propel themselves between the stars. The final blow to his pride came when she clashed hard with him, grabbing his stick and using it to lift herself and somersault over his head, then hitting him along the full length of his spine while vertically above him. He conceded, then thanked first Jan and then Veg for insisting that he use a padded martial arts Gee.

 

The salvage guys wanted to learn about Jan’s weapons. She and Veg did a roaring trade, building new weapons or customising the issued ones. Between jumps, as they crossed from LP to LP, Stephine, the colonel and the boss worked everyone hard with every weapon, piece of equipment and craft.

 

Fritz, when he was not in engineering designing and building electronics, spent some time composing electronic music, which he would play over
Basalt’s
sound systems much to the delight of most members of the crew.

 

Marko learnt that his baking colleague, Minh Pham, was a master with explosives and improvised devices, so, together with Harry, he decided to milk every last bit of information from him. Some of Minh’s knowledge was absolute gold, stuff they could not find a reference to in their databases, which was probably not surprising as the Administration regularly purged what it deemed as ‘subversive information’.

 

One afternoon he showed them how to make a series of very effective explosives from what was available to them in the kitchen and in the cleaning supplies storeroom. Unfortunately, when it came to justifying to Stephine what they had made and why it was in the kitchen, it proved just too difficult. Her scolding had them all feeling considerably chastened, but they left the mess giggling like schoolboys just the same.

 

~ * ~

 

‘All crew, stations please. Final jump into the target system of Gliese 163 in fifteen minutes. Soul Saver uploads as soon as you are able. A fast picket drone will be launched immediately prior to the jump.’

 

They were kitted up in combat gear, with faceplates open, sitting at their assigned posts. The colonel and her selected crew were already on board her scout ship. Jan thought that calling it a scout ship was a bit of a misnomer. It was almost half the length of
Basalt
with huge engines and great firepower, and it was capable of supporting six individuals for many years, although it was rare for more than one Ranger to be on a mission at any one time as they seemed to like their solitude. Jan and Marko had had a few laughs about that, considering the sack time she and the major were getting. They decided they must have been making up for lost years.

 

The colonel’s ship,
Crystal,
had a state of the art adaptive camouflage system which allowed it to get in close and undetected. The colonel had left
Basalt
three standard days earlier to build up speed before the jump so she could swing past the Hauler using inertia only, and not leave any engine signatures as they coasted.

 

Basalt,
on the other hand, was going in relatively slowly, as the plan called for them to hang back and wait for her intelligence reports. The salvage teams were either in their own craft or manning the Skuas. One of them, Julie Mapp, had shown a real aptitude for the Skua and had also requested a transfer to
Basalt
which the major was considering; not one of the existing crew had any objections as she could build racing aircraft and engines. She had done so for a long time and had a reputation of being good at it. Made bloody awful coffee, but great tea ... just like Marko, in fact. And she had confided to him that she didn’t like coffee.

 

Marko’s boards were perfect so he switched the engine controls to the major and Patrick. They jumped into the system where
Cactus 3
was marooned and started to bring
Basalt
to the designated position, just out of sight of the target ice moon, which orbited the gas giant with the distant local star lighting the scene. Veg and Stephine launched immediately, switched on their exotic camouflage, then their almost undetectable propulsion systems, and moved quickly ahead of
Basalt.

 

It was a beautiful sight. The huge gas ball was covered in amazing storms with extraordinary colours. Marko could just imagine the major’s excitement and he could see that, in spite of all that was going on, Michael was shunting images and data into his private astronomy and astrophysics files.

 

‘Target is currently on the other side of the ice moon,’ the major informed them. ‘We hold here. Albatross launch and hold position five kilometres out. Everyone else, deploy, and hold one hundred metres out.’

 

Marko dropped and gently powered the Skua away from
Basalt’s
hull. The four small salvage craft, which were basically frames with engines, a large equipment container, a two-man cockpit, winches with cutting gear, and covered in grapple mortars, also moved away until they all surrounded
Basalt
and pointed towards the Hauler.

 

Colonel White spoke over the comms.
‘Basalt,
this is
Crystal.
Info packet on the way.’

 

The comms laser from
Crystal
carried the latest pictures and data on the Hauler. It was still holding the same position in orbit and, as they looked at the data, it became apparent that the ship was still growing. There were also large numbers of urchins of all sizes in the mini-system of moons orbiting the gas giant. The ones around the Hauler seemed to be different: they were more bulky and displayed a far greater skin colour range. They even moved more purposefully than the others. Everyone could hear the commanders of each unit and what they were saying to each other, as Stephine spoke. ‘Patrick, anything comprehensible from the urchins?’

 

‘No, Stephine, the language is a completely different structure. Looking at the others still operating around the gas giant, they have more in common with the urchins we know, but even they appear to have an unknown language. I am sorry, but this will take a great deal of time to decipher.’

 

She pursed her lips. ‘Thanks. It was a long shot that we would understand them anyway. We can now see the Hauler in direct sight. Antimatter decoys are ready for launch.’

 

Major Longbow chimed in. ‘Roger that, Stephine. Stand by to deploy the first one: aim it two degrees closer to the Hauler and step the speed up by ten per cent from what we decided earlier. Launch when ready.’

BOOK: Crystal Venom
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