Chapter Thirty-Four

Miner Problems

Hardwicke looked at the reports in front of him for a long moment before returning his eyes to the recordings from the surviving ships. On the screens around him, a titanic ship battled with the ships of the Line.

Flashes lit the screen as beams sliced into hulls and railguns turned cruisers into wreckage. Lasers burned through shields and armor alike in a symphony of destruction while the massive vessel shimmered with shield fluctuations.

The scan reports on his desk listed the name of the beast as the N.S.S. Harbinger.

Fast-forwarding to just before the end of the battle, Hardwicke watched his own fleet’s XL Beam weapons pour an entire capital ship’s worth of energy into the enemy, with a twin hitting the exact same spot. Just as the beam weapons burned through the power couplings and flickered out, he saw a hole cored out of the Harbinger.

Zooming in, he saw the smooth metal underneath.

They hadn’t made it all the way into the inner hull, even with all that.

Hardwicke rewound through the recordings, switching to the feeds of a single ship as it recorded the suicide charge of another one of their Fleet. It slammed into the engines of the Harbinger before going up in a flash as they overloaded their core. It was enough to shatter any ship he had ever seen, but the Harbinger barely seemed to lose thrust, let alone everything else, or suffer a hull breach.

Not that it mattered.

Stalking back behind his desk, Hardwicke picked up the still images of the thick ropes of what had to be nanites as they consumed the damaged ships of the Line to repair themselves.

It had taken less than ten minutes, apparently.

Finally, he sat down and looked up at his second in command, Stibbert.

“We have missed something important here,” Hardwicke said with a frown.

“That is clear, Sir,” Stibbert agreed. “We really need to stop missing it, whatever it is.”

“I am open to ideas,” Hardwicke admitted reluctantly.

“We invade now,” Stibbert suggested. “Before things get worse.”

“Not a bad idea,” Hardwicke admitted. “Unless they have more tricks up their sleeve.”

“Which they do,” Stibbert sighed.

“You think so?” Hardwicke asked his friend.

“They have every other time.” Stibbert deflated, his anger draining out of him like water down a plughole. “First, it is a damn carrier, and then they start taking over our ships mid-fight. Next, well, the less said about an asteroid thrown through Transit Space, the better, and now we have this monster of a ship obliterating our forces.”

“You forgot the unmapped jump point,” Hardwicke offered.

“Yeah! I did, didn’t I,” Stibbert laughed suddenly. “Why the fuck are we fighting these bastards again?”

Hardwicke looked at his friend for a moment and then burst into laughter as well.

It was a much-needed break in the tension that had built over the last few hours, allowing both men to think a little clearer.

“We can’t go blundering in there again,” Hardwicke said eventually. “We just can’t.”

“I agree,” Stibbert sighed. “We need that most valuable thing, Sir. We need information before we go into that system.”

“So, no invasion for now,” Hardwicke nodded. “It is long past time we showed our enemy the respect of not underestimating them.”

“I’ll start reaching out to the information merchants immediately,” Stibbert confirmed. “And we will start trying to slip sensor ships through jump points.”

Hardwicke added, “Put out a bounty for any scans or information from inside that system. And have a couple of our ships retrofitted as blockade runners.”

“Sir?” Stibbert smiled wickedly. “We are going to run our own blockade?”

“We’ll get scans and maybe more,” Hardwicke laughed. “They are using innovative measures, Stibbert. Let us do the same.”

“Yes, Sir!” Stibbert stood and seemed energized. “We are finally going to do this, aren’t we, Sir?”

“Yes, First Assistant Stibbert. We are.” Hardwicke nodded. “We are finally going to do this right.”

===<<<>>>===

Munro was screaming at the miners' leaders when Kilravock started to try to get his attention. The idiots were refusing to return to the mines despite finally finding veins worth extracting.

“Listen, you dumb old prick!” Munro snarled. “You lost a few people. It is a mine; it happens. It does not mean the fucking place is cursed, or haunted, or anything of the kind!”

“We hear things down there,” the old man glared at Munro, “Things moving in the dark, and we heard screams before the cave-in. Before!”

“They probably saw the reinforcements breaking!” Munro rubbed his hands over his face and took a deep, calming breath. “Come on, man. Be reasonable, will you? Has anyone actually SEEN anything?”

“One of the lads said a patch of shadow crawled across the roof of the tunnel toward him before he ran,” the old man said, eyes wide. “Maybe the enemy got in!”

“We are fighting people, you fucking idiot, not shadows!” Munro grabbed the man and dragged him toward the walls, pointing at the guard towers. “We have an entire company of soldiers guarding this place. Not one of them had so much as seen a threatening animal! Let alone any of these shadowy enemies you are so worried about.”

“We want the mine searched before we are willing to return,” the foreman crossed his arms and looked away. “That’s just the way it is.”

“You want a bunch of soldiers blundering around in a mine?” Munro challenged. “Fine! Fuck it! That won’t end badly at all!” He whirled and jabbed the miner with his finger as he spoke. “But they better find the entire enemy base hiding down there, or I will personally shoot each and every one of you idiots for breach of contact.”

Without waiting for an answer, Munro stalked away to find out what Kilravock had that was so urgent.

It had better be bloody good news.

“Bad news, Sir,” Kilravock said, looking pale. “We lost tracking on the search group.”

“No, you didn’t,” Munro said, simply walking past the man and into his office.

“We did, Sir.” Kilravock persisted. “They entered an area of swamp land, and then all the trackers went dead.”

“A peculiarity of the terrain, I’m sure.” Munro insisted. Sitting down behind his desk, he started to sort the papers into orderly piles. Making things neat. Making things tidy.

“With respect,” Kilravock went on, “I suspect an ambush.”

“No,” Munro said simply. “Everything is fine.”

“It really isn’t sir. I’m worried,” Kilravock said. “A hundred men do not just disappear.”

“They will be back in contact very soon,” Munro insisted, feeling his jaw begin to ache as he ground his teeth. “Very soon.”

“We lost contact almost twelve hours ago. They have not checked in since.” Kilravock kept talking, but Munro refused to listen.

“You are so worried?” Munro leaped to his feet. “Get in a shuttle and go look.”

“We only have one shuttle, sir,” Kilravock said tartly. “You have it assigned to the miners.”

“They don’t need it! Isn’t that lucky?” Munro snarled. “Isn’t that just fucking peachy! Go on. Fuck off and look for your men.”

“Alone, sir?” Kilravock paled. “I wanted to get all the soldiers together and make a proper search.”

“Get in that shuttle and go fucking look!” Munro pointed at the door. “Now!”

“A single shuttle will be vulnerable, sir,” Kilravock glowered.

“Good!” Munro laughed bitterly. “I hope whatever is out there eats you.”

“Sir!” Kilravock snapped.

“GET! OUT!” Munro roared.

Once his assistant had left, Munro sat at his desk and took long, deep breaths for almost five minutes before he suddenly overturned his desk and kicked his chair across the room.

This was supposed to be the easy bit.

Two days earlier, he had been in a good mood after a communication came in saying the reinforcement fleet had entered the system. The mine had been completed, the first veins were being located, and Munro felt like everything was coming together.

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It had been a tough start, he felt, but it had been coming together. So, he waited for the arrival of more men, more supplies, and, most crucially, a working ship to get them off this planet.

But, as the hours passed, it became more and more clear that no one was coming. After twelve hours, Munro had been enraged at the idea they had decided to supply the other bases first. After twenty-four, he began to worry.

At the thirty-six-hour mark, fear had begun to worm into his soul.

Now, over forty-eight hours later, Munro was almost certain that the reinforcements had been turned back. Or worse, destroyed.

No one was coming to reinforce them, and if they had to wait for another attempt to be made…

Munro knew the reality of the Imperial Line, knew the tyranny of the bottom line. He was a manager, after all. The intrusive thought that had echoed in his head over the last hour was that the cost/benefit analysis of his base was sliding closer and closer to the point where he and his people would be written off. A loss to offset dividends in the next shareholder meeting.

Munro was getting more and more certain his life would end on this planet because he failed to prove cost-effective to recover.

An asset about to be struck off the lists.

The idiotic miners were scared of things that moved in the dark, while Kilravock was terrified of things going bump in the marshes. None of them knew the true terror; the true danger was a line item in red ink.

Someone on the other side of the galaxy would pick up a red pen and write their lives away in a single stroke of ink.

Bullet, blade, beam, or beast might end their actual lives, but they were dead from the moment the pen touched the page.

The only thing that could save them now was profits. Not tomorrow, or the next day, or the next week. Now. Today.

Control—that was the problem—the lack of control. Munro had no way to reach out and stop that pen from writing or to make the skies part and deliver his reinforcements. He could do nothing to make the swamp spit back out the troops it had seemingly swallowed.

All he could control was here and now. The mine was something he could control. So, he would.

Munro picked up his desk, retrieved his chair, and carefully put his papers in order. He took time to ensure all the piles were orderly, arranged properly, and neatly aligned with their proper places on the desk.

Then, he picked up his pen and walked out the door.

Of course, the shuttle was gone. Kilravock would be fine, but that was not his to control. Munro walked on over the hardpacked ground they used as roads before arriving outside the mine.

The old foreman was still standing there, arms crossed against the world around him and looking defiant. Munro gestured with his pen, summoning the company captain to him and telling him to take half his men and sweep the mine from top to bottom.

Another gesture with his pen, and he sent a runner to get his personal armor.

A couple of the miners started to head toward the mine as if to act as guides, but the foreman called them back, smiling smugly at Munro as he dressed carefully in his armor, feeling the power functions boost his physical strength and balance to new heights.

Ten minutes after the soldiers entered the mine, everything was still quiet, and the foreman was starting to look nervous. Fifteen minutes later, Munro was dressed but still holding his pen.

He started to walk over to the foreman, a scowl on his face.

“Hey! Just because they haven’t found anything yet—” the foreman fell silent as Munroe stabbed him in the neck with the pen, his power armor giving him the strength to push it clean through from one side to the other.

Jerking his pen back, Munro ripped the man’s throat out and watched, blank-faced, as he gurgled and choked to death on his own blood.

The miners yelled and reached for him, but he raised his hand, and the troops aimed their weapons.

The miners backed away.

“ENOUGH!” Munro roared, his calm face dissolving into one of frothing rage. “Enough! There is nothing in there, so get to fucking work!”

He turned toward the mine and pointed with his bloody pen, “NOW!”

The distant sound of lasers echoed out of the mine's mouth a fraction of a second before the screams. Munro paused, the miners backing away slightly.

“Captain, get the rest of your company up here right now!” Munro called.

Troopers moved, forming a firing line, and then…

A single silver trooper came stumbling out of the mouth of the mine, one arm missing below the elbow, blood splattered liberally across their armor.

They never said a word, running past Munro, pushing through the stunned firing line, and kept going, running blindly off into the distance.

“What the?” Munro turned back just in time to see a swarm of black shapes burst from the mouth of the mine, blood, and dirt splattered across their black chitin plates.

Each one was the size of a large dog, and brilliant metal smiles were opening to reveal hideous gullets smeared with gore.

“FIRE!” Munro yelled, and the Line troopers responded, firing madly into the swarm.

The thick chitin plates seemed to shrug off the fire as Munro scrambled back.

The Company Captain yelled for them to concentrate fire, and then several of the creatures reared up, their top third splitting open in a hideous way.

“What the fuck is that?” Munro muttered as intricate metalwork on each side was revealed. He recognized the pattern too late to shout a warning and could only watch in horror as thick laser beams cut the troopers to pieces.

Munro turned to run, only to see the shuttle appearing over the main base.

If he could get to it, Munro might actually get away.

Of course, that would mean slowing down the tide of monsters…

“All units, report to the mine on the double!” Munro sent the order, shamelessly running away as he threw everybody he had in the base into the maw of the creatures to buy enough time to get to the shuttle. “I repeat! All units! Emergency muster outside the mine!”

Twice, Munro had to dodge into a building to hide as feet thundered past outside. The screams were still coming from the mine, but worse than that, they were getting closer.

Giving up on pretense, Munro sprinted through the dusty streets on a direct path to the shuttle landing area. The plan, such as it was, involved flying very far away and then hiding. Let the war continue without him.

There had to be at least one place on a world this big where the Imperium couldn’t find him, right? If he had six months, he could make himself a bunker with the shuttle parts. Inside, he would wait for years if needed, and once no one was watching, Munro could sneak away.

Yes! It could be done.

He arrived just as the shuttle touched down, the rear already lowering as it landed.

“Kilravock!” Munro roared as he ran for the loading bay, “Keep the engines on! We need to get out of here!”

The loading ramp lowered as the doors opened, and Munro slid to a stop, mouth hanging open.

Figures were standing on the ramp like things out of a nightmare. A giant robot of some form with four arms was forced to duck as he exited the shuttle while a woman in armor with a hooded cloak held Kilravock’s severed head out like a lantern.

It was a gruesome sight, but the other two were worse.

A young woman’s head sat on a body covered in armor that rippled like mercury as she strode forward on four insectoid legs. Behind her and a little to the side was a man he sort of recognized, one of his own men, but now twisted and bizarre. One arm looked mechanical in its entirety, while the other sported a smaller version of the creatures from the mine, wrapped obscenely around the other gauntleted hand. Beneath his helmet, a metal plate gleamed around an eye that looked more like a sensor array than anything organic.

None of it was worse than the tentacles that swayed rhythmically back and forth from the shoulders, however.

Is this what they had done to his men?

“Look, a welcoming party,” the one with Kilravock’s head grinned beneath the hood. “How fun.”

“Huh, I thought we would have to chase them down,” the other woman said, looking disappointed. “Still, this saves time, I suppose.”

“No!” Munro screamed and turned to run.

“Puppy, fetch!”

“That joke’s really getting old!” Someone yelled behind him, and before Munro had taken five steps, a grip like iron grabbed his shoulder, dragging him off his feet.

“What joke?”

Munro stopped screaming and struggling as he was dragged through the streets and back towards his office. There was no point; the grip might as well have been welded on.

The whole thing felt like a nightmare, a deep sense of unreality to things as he was dragged along like a carpet, listening to an argument about whether or not his captor was a pet.

He almost swallowed his tongue out of pure fear as he was dragged toward the swarm of giant insects, but they opened around his group like water around a rock. Several formed something like a perverted honor guard, moving with the group. At one point one came near the thing holding him, and he shuddered as his captor reached out and scratched it on the top of the head like it was a friendly dog.

When they once more arrived in his office, Munro saw it was untouched.

At least until they entered.

“What a fucking dump,” the one in rippling armor said with a sigh, gesturing to the robot, who promptly picked everything up and threw it out the door before three of the smiling horrors crawled in and settled in a half circle on one side.

To Munro’s disgust, the robot and the two women settled onto them like they were chairs.

As for Munro, he was forced to his knees, facing the woman in rippling armor by his captor.

“I am Paren, Princess of the Nanite Imperium,” Paren said with a smile. “This is my sister, Leah, and our best friend, Robot.”

“His name is Robot, by the way. That is not a description. He is not, in fact, a robot,” his captor helpfully added.

“Will you shut up, please?” Paren huffed. “I’m going for an intimidating vibe here.”

“The Smilers just ate his entire camp; how much more intimidating can we realistically get?” his captor asked politely.

“What is your name?” Paren asked Munro.

“Munro, Your Highness,” Munro said quickly. “Please, spare my life!”

“Settle a bet for us, Munro,” Leah said, sitting forward. “Do you recognize your captor?”

“He was on my ship on the way here. Why?” Munro frowned, trying to see where this was headed.

“Yes!” Paren cheered as his captor groaned. “Bye-bye to the legs!”

“Oh, come on!”

“You made the bet,” Robot added gravely. “Against my advice, I might add.”

“He doesn’t know my name!” his captor growled, “Do you?”

“N-no,” Munro stuttered. “I’m sorry!”

“Hah! It’s Edwards!” Edwards said with a grin. “See, I get to keep my legs.”

“You bet he wouldn’t remember you, not that he wouldn’t remember your name,” Leah said with a wicked smile. “Off with the legs!”

“Paren, come on!” Edwards pleaded.

“Okay, how about one leg or both from below the knee?” Paren offered with a laugh.

“One leg and it looks normal?” Edwards wheedled.

“Deal!” Paren cheered. “And what did we learn?”

“Never bet a body part?” Edwards asked morosely.

“Good boy, now, drop him.”

Munro fell forward, suddenly free.

“I beg for my life!” Munro grovelled. “Please!”

“Oh boy,” Leah muttered. “We need braver enemies.”

“Sure,” Paren said with a smile. “Oh, wait, what’s this?”

She pulled a piece of paper from the floor and held it up. Munro tried to get his eyes to focus, seeing his own order to take no prisoners and torture and execute any captives on the site of capture.

“Torture, huh?” Paren grinned. “What about we start with you?”

“I have secrets about the Line. Things I can tell you. Anything you want, just please, let me live.” Munro begged.

“Can we please stop this?” Edwards sighed.

“Stop what?” Paren asked.

“You're playing with him,” Edwards retorted. “He’s going to die, so let’s just do it already.”

“Uh, he was in favor of torture?” Paren asked, waving the paper. “What if he had captured me or Leah?”

“You’d both have effortlessly torn him to shreds,” Edwards said sternly. “Aren’t we better than this?”

“Oh, damn,” Leah sighed. “He sounds like Salem.”

“Yeah, fine,” Paren said, looking thoughtful. “So let’s not kill him?”

“What?” Edwards asked.

“Mum might have questions, right?” Paren asked her sister.

“Yes, I suppose.”

“Okay, so we have a prisoner to take with us.” Paren shrugged.

“He will need to be guarded,” Robot said.

“Naah,” Paren laughed. “If he tries to escape, let him.”

“Really?” Edwards said, sounding surprised.

“Oh, yes.” Paren grinned down at Munro. “But then we hunt him down, and I feed him to my babies.”

Munro watched in horror as she patted the insect.

“I’ll behave, I promise!” Munro swore and meant every word with a fervor he had never known before.

“Let’s start with getting at those ships,” Paren said, standing up.

“They are wreckage, that is all!” Munro said desperately. “They can’t fly.”

“Not yet,” Paren said as the others stood. “Come, Mister Munro, and see the power of the Nanite Imperium.”