Thunder Wells by Terry W. Ervin II

Author:Terry W. Ervin II
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: alien invasion, aliens, science fiction, apocalypse, post apocalyptic, military sci fi, sci fi, ervin, relic tech, relic hunted, crax war
Publisher: Gryphonwood Press
Published: 2016-12-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

With optical scans, Pilot Detter said we couldn’t be sure. I was sure, and so was McAllister.

O’Vorley sat with me at the conference room table, which also served as the dining table. “Kra, You sure those are jettisoned bodies?”

I finished chewing my walnut and raisin flavored energy bar and washed it down with a drink of vitamin fortified juice, green and tasting faintly of sour apples. It was one of Kent’s favorites. Not mine. I didn’t care for straws, but they were necessary in zero gravity.

Nodding to his question, I added, “You’re going to doubt both me and McAllister?”

“To what end?”

McAllister estimated at least ninety bodies, but no more than one-hundred and ten. Ejected from the cylinder shaped dock capped by octagonal disks, opposite the planet with enough momentum to resist the pull of gravity. The CGIG bastards wanted them to remain in orbit, at least for a while. Long enough for their Crax masters to witness their continued treachery.

“You know what I think,” I said.

Through his straw, O’Vorley took long swallows of his apple flavored drink. “Maybe the Crax are already there.”

“No Crax ships. The dock still has its def-sats and satellite. Freight shuttles still coming up and going back down to the mines. Only CGIG loyalists are there.”

“Could be the other way around.”

I rested my forearms on the table’s edge. “You really believe that, Kent? It’s loyalists that were jettisoned from the dock?”

He looked away, not saying anything. His first direct taste of betrayal. Humans turning on their own kind in our fight for survival. He’d been close to it on Tallavaster, but no bodies. He’d been tracking, but it was more theory, more cat and mouse. Not space-frozen corpses. Men and women killed to prove a point. To prove commitment and loyalty.

In theory, I could’ve been wrong, but knew I wasn’t. Despite our rift, McAllister and I agreed. “Pilot Detter said we’d know for sure in six hours.”

The pilot sent the optical data for retransmission shortly after O’Vorley discovered it. Like O’Vorley, she didn’t want to believe what was in front of her eyes.

Kent shrugged.

I unbuckled and pushed away from the table. “Six hours. I plan to get some sleep until then.”

Fleet’s surprise assault on the orbital dock was both fast and decisive. Every message rocket launched was destroyed before achieving condensed space travel. Rebellion against the dock’s Crax sympathizers aided the Colonial Marine landing squads, including hacking of the com-systems, disabling all radio communications. With no radio distress signals sent and no message rockets escaping, the approaching Behemoth class transport should arrive unaware of what happened.

I watched the assault on the wall-mounted screen in Med Tech Devatha’s room, accompanied by the Bahklack. Her eyestalks remaining motionless, taking in the scene.

Apparently the dock had retained its official name, the Bizmith Orbital Dock, as determined through narrow beam communications directed toward Loki’s Lady, still eight hours from reaching the dock.

The captain of the Star Splitter, a refurbished battleship still showing hasty patchwork from recent combat, ordered the jettisoned bodies to remain undisturbed.

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