The Ascendant Stars - Michael Cobley [185]
And still the Legion cyborgs continued to rise up from the surface of Darien, a gleaming black river of deadly brutal forms. There had to be thousands of them by now, but what if there were millions yet to emerge?
At that point Ash had reached a similar conclusion and ordered a course change, but even as the Silverlance moved off its trajectory, the ship AI warned of approaching hostiles. Moments later a cloud of cyborgs had converged on the Tygran and Earthsphere ships as they tried to escape.
That had only been a few hours ago. All the battles and skirmishes around Darien had merged into a single gargantuan convulsion of offensives and counter-offensives, barrages and forays, berserk charges and unavoidable routs. And from the surface of the planet still more cyborgs of the Legion poured forth in an unbroken torrent.
All the subsequent fighting, the collisions and near misses, and the devastating attack on the Silverlance by a Hegemony cruiser, was still clear and sharp in his mind as he clattered down the last companionway, coughing on the smoke. The lateral passage was about fifteen yards long and there, at the T-junction at its end, was the entrance to the escape pod gallery.
‘Alert for … Commander Cameron … alert … ’
‘Having problems?’ Greg said as he hurried along the passage.
‘External interference exacerbating comm-net incapacity … alert – seven point two minutes until this vessel enters atmosphere … ’
An acerbic riposte came to Greg’s lips but died when an indistinct figure dashed across the T-junction up ahead. There was something familiar about that slight physique and barefoot stride …
‘Silverlance,’ he said, ‘I just saw someone run past at the end of the corridor, heading aft – who else is still on board?’
‘All crew accounted for. Apart from yourself, there are no other living persons aboard this vessel.’
‘Well, I didna imagine it … ’ he began, then wondered if his mind was starting to misfire under the burden of stress and exhaustion.
This is an ex-Hegemony ship, not a Forerunner monument – there’s no way that Catriona could be here …
Hurrying along, he had just reached the junction when the deck lurched underfoot, making him stumble and fall to his knees.
‘I am sorry, friend Gregory,’ said a voice from close by. ‘So very sorry … ’
The speaker sounded like Chel and seemed to be very near, but as Greg regained his feet he caught sight of a diminutive Uvovo figure back along the way he’d come. He raised a hand but before he could call out the deck jolted again, worse this time, knocking him sprawling.
‘Alert! – hull breach on bridge deck!’ said the ship AI. ‘Cyborg intruders have gained access to ship interior. Depressurised passageways have been sealed off. Five point seven minutes until atmospheric entry.’
Greg struggled to his feet, looking wildly around, but saw no one else. I definitely did not imagine that! But why did he say sorry? …
He dived into the escape pod gallery … and found his worst fears realised as he hurried along the line of pod hatches. Out of six, two had been launched while the rest had been wrecked by enemy fire. A sick dread filled his chest and he leaned back against the gallery partition wall.
‘Acting Commander, what is the pod status?’
He sighed. ‘Junk, or gone. Guess that’s that … ’
‘I would recommend trying to reach the pods in the forward section,’ said the ship AI. ‘There is a maintenance airlock forward of your location … ’
‘Is there time?’
‘If you can cross the hull to one of the forward maintenance locks you can still get to an escape pod. And remaining suited will shield you from any temperature increase for a while.’
He nodded, feeling his heart race. ‘Okay, then. Let’s give the dice another wee roll, eh?’
Running, he reached the windowed inner hatch of the maintenance airlock – and heard a bang