The Lazarus War: Legion Read Free Page B

army responded immediately, darting off into the shadows. They had a practical range of about a kilometre. That would give us a tactical network sufficient to map and catalogue most of the station, whatever changes had been effected by the staff, faster than even a simulant team.
    “Move on to Communications.”
    With the thump of heavy boots against the metal floor, we moved off.
      
     
    “Quebec and Falke are out of the game,” Jenkins said. “Just made extraction. Contact has also been lost with Captain Yares.”
    The update flashed across my HUD. Each squad was running autonomously, on the initiative of their respective captain. That was a conscious decision: maintaining regular radio contact might attract Krell attention. They followed comms waves like a shark followed the scent of blood. Supposing that Yares’ team was about to make extraction, that left us and one other team. I consulted the mission timeline again: now just over nineteen minutes until terminal decline.
    “I’m getting lots of bio-readings,” Mason said. She waved at the door ahead. “Concentration of signals in that room, but several more across the station.”
    That was the problem with the bio-scanner: it couldn’t differentiate between Krell and human biological signatures.
    Without being asked, Kaminski moved up on the door to the Communications Centre and Martinez fell into a covering crouch.
    “It’s about to get hot,” Jenkins said.
    “Fucking A it is,” Martinez said. “God bless my hand.”
    Kaminski slung his M95 rifle over his shoulder, and Martinez nodded to him. He activated the controls and the doors purred open.
    “Move on.”
    Communications was ordinarily occupied by banks of computers and the AI mainframe – most of the running of the station was automated and none of the crew had any dedicated technical expertise. Now, it was crammed with personnel. Clad in EVA suits, ready for immediate evac.
    We moved up by the numbers and filtered into the room. I nodded at Jenkins and she dropped back to cover the chamber entrance.
    The staff were perched on chairs, huddled in corners, pacing nervously. The group’s spokesperson was a pudgy-faced woman, wearing a battered EVA suit, smeared black with burn marks, glass-globe helmet under her arm as though she was ready to make a spacewalk at any moment. Her hair was thinning and receding, an indication that she was used to working in deep-space – experiencing the common side-effect of anti-rad drugs. My HUD aura-tagged the woman as DR JENNIFER ANDERS, STATION SUPERVISOR. Anders pushed her way to the front of the group.
    I popped my own helmet, working on the vague assumption that presenting her with a human face – albeit simulated – might allay some of her concerns. It didn’t seem to work: there were gasps of amazement around the room as I revealed my simulated features.
    “Major Conrad Harris, Alliance Simulant Operations Programme. We’re here to effect the evacuation. You are Dr Anders?”
    The woman drew back involuntarily. She was tiny, dwarf-like, compared to my physical bulk.
    “That’s right. We did – have done – as ordered by Command,” she muttered, biting the corner of her lip. “They told us that the Krell might be coming here…invading…”
    There was another ripple of gasps through the group, more pale faces glaring up at me and my team.
    “They already know,” Anders said, nodding towards her staff. She added, haltingly: “But…none of us have…ever…faced the Krell before.”
    “Let’s try to keep it that way,” I said, with my best impression of a smile. “Our shuttle was damaged on the way down and I can’t guarantee that anyone else is coming. What other transport options do you have on site?”
    “We have a shuttle with sufficient capacity for the staff,” she said. “It’s in the secondary hangar, but it hasn’t been used for months.”
    That could be a problem. I nodded at Kaminski.
    “’Ski, get patched in, see if