novelraw Chapter 36: And Then There Were None
Chapter 36: And Then There Were None
The Voidsmens boarded the New Pharos after she continued gliding through the void for half an hour.
General Sola broadcasted some not-so-good news to them. According to Captain Koperos, there was an issue with the flight deck's energy system, and the landing guidance system was inoperable. That meant the Voidsmens had to manually adjust the angle of their small landing craft to enter the flight deck.
This was technical work. The slightest mistake and they would crash into the transport ship's hull, turning into a pile of scattered garbage in the void.
"It might get a little bumpy soon."
The young officer said over the comm channel, shifting his pauldron to adjust to a more comfortable position, while simultaneously cursing the sweat running into his eyes behind his goggles.
The other Voidsmens gathered around, four in the front and the rest in the back. They all wore protective carapace armor produced by local manufactories, gear that was no worse than the Astra Militarum's.
The two leading sergeants had already raised their heavy ceramite shields. Given that the rioters at most possessed some solid-projectile weapons, this kind of protection was clearly more than enough, excessive even.
The interior of the landing craft was bathed in an ugly red light. Two hundred fully armed Voidsmens were ready to plunge into combat at any moment.
Soon, a piercing alarm bell rang out.
"Brace!"The young officer commanded. When a jolt caused his back to slam into the armor of the soldier behind him, he could only grab the handrail running along the top of the compartment.
For a moment, he thought they had successfully breached the New Pharos's outer hull, and only then did he realize this backward thrust was the landing craft's shock-absorbing drives activating.
The actual breach occurred a moment later.
He was able to stay on his feet when the lander's inertia forcefully pitched him forward this time. When the lander instantly bored into the side of the New Pharos's bridge mast, the surrounding metal shuddered and groaned.
When the alarm bell shut off, all the young officer could hear was his own rapid breathing.
"Thirty seconds!"
The pilot's voice resounded in the cabin. The officer saw the plasteel and ceramite protective layers of the stabilizer advance along with the auto-hinge locks, heard compressed thuds, and felt the tremors of friction between the deck and the bottom of the landing craft.
He suddenly felt the shotgun in his hands possess an almost unbearable heaviness.
"Ten seconds!!"
The pilot continued to roar.
"Prepare yourselves, soldiers."
The sound of weapons being loaded in the enclosed, sweltering space was loud. The officer let go of the handrail above his head and brought up his pump-action shotgun, his body feeling as if it had just been injected with a shot of adrenaline.
The alarm bell rang once more, only once.
The red light washing over the landing platform flashed amber, followed by green.
When the hatch clamped shut there was first a clang, followed by a hiss as a cloud of steam sprayed out, and the air pressure inside the cabin began to drop.
"Advance! Advance!"
The Voidsmens shouted as they charged forward, the young officer among them, half advancing, half being carried along by them at times.
But their battle cries only fell upon empty corridors.
The officer wanted to get a clear view of the situation, only to find himself in a huddled mass of soldiers. The front row had their shields raised, and those behind held shotguns.
According to the previous unit briefing, they would enter the bridge via one of the numerous service corridors encircling the rear bridge mast.
As part of the transport ship's outer hull, those narrow passageways functioned as a network for repair crew and maintenance servitors to quickly reach more important areas.
They were cramped, damp, and desolate places. Like the external veins of most starships, they were completely disregarded, possessing only a tiny bit of dim lighting, heat, and maintenance functions.
Now the Voidsmens found it was merely a dark, enclosed world made of rusting pipes and mesh decking choked with fungus.
More importantly, there were no signs of life.
"Silence."
The young officer finally squeezed out of the pile of men. He was the highest commander in this place.
"Reform formation."
According to the structural blueprints he possessed, there should be a grav-elevator fifty meters ahead.
"Advance with caution."
Soon, the Voidsmens formed a tight line, their weapons still at the ready.
Following the curvature of the bridge mast, the corridor continued its leftward bank. The clanging of the soldiers' steel-studded boots and the clattering, grating friction of their carapace armor echoed.
The young officer tried to concentrate, scanning the pipe-lined walls as they passed by, probing the shadows between the flickering lumen globes with his shotgun.
Before setting off, General Sola had told them not to linger too long in the outer hull. According to that Captain's description, the small number of escaped slaves on the ship might still be sparsely scattered across most areas, especially the outer hull.
The young officer didn't consider those wretched creatures a threat. The moment the transport ship reached orbit, they would have plenty of time to ferret those guys out of the corners and then send them to the surface to be converted into servitors.
This was simply easier than hunting small animals on his family estate. He also frequently used slaves as hunting targets, driving them into dark canyons, and watching them wail in agony in traps—it was truly a great pleasure.
With this thought in mind, his mood improved greatly.
"Secured the grav-elevator."
Soon, a voice came over the comms. It was the vanguard of the team; they had reached the designated target.
It was a massive maintenance ramp, large enough to haul replacement circulation piping or adamantium slats for the outer hull. After the Voidsmens entered.
The officer was the last to pull the lever.
With a shudder and a whirring scraping sound, the platform began to rise.
As the elevator ascended into the central mast of the tower, the officer realized that, so far, they had encountered no resistance.
In fact, there were absolutely no signs of life.
Auspex readings were ragged and all bizarre feedback, and the tactical display ahead remained completely black.
Even the messages received, the comms were short and jumpy, chopped into segments by static interference.
"Something is jamming our systems."
A sergeant said over the short-range comms.
"Our communications with orbit have also been severed."
Suddenly, the grav-elevator shuddered to a halt. The soldiers gathered at the doors, locking their shields together to form an impenetrable ceramite barrier.
A drop of sweat rolled down the young officer's forehead. He clearly remembered setting it to ascend to the highest level, so why did the elevator stop midway?
Unless something was preparing to enter the elevator from the outside.
Then, the doors of the grav-elevator slid wide open...
Nothing.
Ahead appeared an empty corridor, the only noise the throbbing of the still-functioning plasma drives in the distance.
"What's going—"
The young officer pressed the controls forcefully, but the elevator simply wouldn't operate. Left with no choice, he could only lead the team out of the elevator and into unfamiliar territory.
It was far less decrepit here than the outer hull, but the lumen globes still seemed on the verge of failure. It was as if they had stolen aboard a ghost ship that had been abandoned centuries ago, destined to drift through the void forever.
However, the truth was it should have left port only a week ago.
Suddenly, the lumen globes died completely. The darkness seemed to resist them, as heavy and black as their shields.
"Bayonet mounts, lights on!"
The officer ordered in a panic. Subsequently, lights flashed brightly, illuminating corroded metal stairs and mottled steam-black rust.
"Advance, let's get out of here!"
The Voidsmens began to climb, the sound of boots striking plasteel traveling up the stairwell.
For the first time since boarding this ship, the young officer felt something besides adrenaline and a mixture of combat tension—an enveloping darkness, an eerie sensation.
Something was wrong.
This feeling only grew stronger when he realized what was missing. While the narrow space was still echoing with the clatter of boots, he noticed that these noises were no longer behind him.
A cold shudder crawled up his spine.
The young officer broke into a run, raising his shotgun, turning and sweeping his bayonet-mounted flashlight over the pitch-black interior of the grav-elevator they had previously occupied.
A thick stench of blood billowed out from within. The young officer's eyes widened, intending to scream.
But it was all too late.