Marianne de Pierres - Transformation Space (Sentients of Orion 04)

The Parrish Plessis Novels

Nylon Angel

Code Noir

Crash Deluxe

The Sentients of Orion

Dark Space

Chaos Space

Mirror Space

Transformation Space

Marianne de Pierres is the author of the multi award-nominated Parrish Plessis and Sentients of Orion science fiction series. The Parrish Plessis series has been translated into eight languages and adapted into a D20 Role Playing Game. 2011 will see the release of her new young adult dark fantasy duology. She is also the author of a humorous crime series, written under the pseudonym Marianne Delacourt. Marianne is an active supporter of genre fiction and has mentored many writers. She lives in Brisbane, Australia, with her husband, three sons and three galahs. Visit her websites at www.tarasharp.com and www.mariannedepierres.com

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if you enjoyed
TRANSFORMATION SPACE

look out for

book one of Humanitys Fire

by

Michael Cobley

DARIEN INSTITUTE: HYPERION DATA RECOVERY PROJECT

Cluster Location Subsidiary Hardmem Substrate (Deck 9 quarters)

Tranche 298

Decryption Status 9th pass, 26 video files recovered

File 15 The Battle of Mars (Swarm War)

Veracity Virtual Re-enactment

Original Time Log 16:09:24, 23 November 2126

FADE IN:

CAPTION:

MARS
THE CRATER PLAIN: OLYMPUS MONS
19 MARCH 2126

The Sergeant was on the carriers command deck, checking and rechecking the engineering consoles modifications, when voices began clamouring over his helmet comm.

Marine force stragglers incoming with enemy units in pursuit

eight, nine Swarmers, maybe ten

The Sergeant cursed, grabbed his heavy carbine and left the command deck as quickly as his combat armour would allow. The clatter of his boots echoed down the vessels spinal corridor while he issued a string of terse orders. By the time he reached the wrecked and gaping doors of the rear deployment hold, the stragglers had arrived. Five wounded and unconscious, all from the Indonesia regiment, going by their helmet flashes. As the last was being carried up the ramp, the leading Swarmers came into view over the brow of a rocky ridge about 80 metres away.

A first glimpse revealed a nightmare jumble of claws, spikes and gleaming black eye-clusters. Swarm biology had many reptilian similarities yet their appearance was unavoidably insectoid. With six, eight, ten or more limbs, they could be as small as a pony or as big as a whale, depending on their specialisation. These were bull-sized skirmishers, eleven black-and-green monsters that were unlimbering tine-snouted weapons as they rushed down towards the crippled carrier.

Hold your fire, the Sergeant said, glancing at the six marines crouched behind the improvised barricade of ammo cases and deck plating. These were all that were left to him after the Colonel and the rest had left in the hovermags a few hours ago, heading for the caldera and the Swarms main hive. One of them hunched his shoulders a little, head tilting to aim down his carbines sights

I said wait, said the Sergeant, gauging the diminishing distance. Ready aft turrets acquire targets fire!

Streams of heavy-calibre shells converged on the leading Swarmers, knocking them off their spidery legs. Then the Sergeant cursed when he saw them right themselves, protected by the bio-armour which had confounded Earths military ever since the beginning of the invasion two years ago.

Pulse rounds, the Sergeant shouted. Now!

Bright bolts began to pound the Swarmers, dense knots of energised matter designed to simultaneously heat and corrode their armour. The enemy returned fire, their weapons delivering repeating arcs of long, thin black rounds, but as the turret jockeys focused their targeting the Swarmers broke off and scattered. The Sergeant then ordered his men to open up, joining in with his own carbine, and the withering crossfire tore into the weakened, confused enemies. In less than a minute, nothing was left alive or in one piece out on the rocky slope.

The defending marines exchanged laughs and grins, and knocked gauntleted knuckles together. The Sergeant barely had time to draw breath and reload his carbine when the consolemans urgent voice came over the comm:

Sergeant! airborne contact, three klicks and closing!

Immediately, he swung round and made for the starboard companionway, shouldering his carbine as he climbed. Whats their profile, soldier?

Hard to tell half the sensor suite is junk

Get me something and quick! He then ordered all four turrets to target the approaching craft and was clambering out of the carriers topside hatch when the consoleman came back to him.

IFF confirms its a friendly, Sergeant its a vorti-wing, and the pilot is asking for you.

Patch him through.

One of his helmets miniscreens blinked suddenly and showed the vortiwing pilot. He was possibly German, going by the instructions on the bulkhead behind him.

Sergeant, Ive not much time, the pilot said in accented English. Im to evacuate you and your men up to orbit

Sorry, Lieutenant, but my commanding officer is down in that caldera, engaging in combat! Look, the brink of the caldera is less than half a klick away you could airlift me and my men over there before returning to

Request denied. My orders are specific. Besides, every unit that made it down there has been overwhelmed and destroyed, whole regiments and brigades, Sergeant. Im sorry The pilot reached up to adjust controls. ETD in less than five minutes, Sergeant. Please have your men ready.

The miniscreen went dead. The Sergeant leaned on the topside rail and stared bitterly at the kilometre-long furrow which the carrier had gouged in the sloping flank of Olympus Mons. Then he gave the order to abandon ship.

In the shroud-like Martian sky overhead, the vorti-wing transport grew from a speck to a broad-built craft descending on four gimbal-mounted spinjets. Landing struts found purchase on the carriers upper hull, and amid the howling blast of the engines the walking wounded and the stretcher cases were lifted into the transports belly hold. The turret jockeys, the consoleman and his half-dozen marines were following suit when the German pilots voice spoke suddenly.

Large number of flying Swarmers heading our way, Sergeant. Suggest you get aboard fast.

As the last of his men climbed up into the vortiwing, the Sergeant turned to face the caldera of Olympus Mons. Through a haze of windblown dust and the thin black fumes of battle, he saw a dense cloud of dark motes rising just a few klicks away. It took only a moment to realise how quickly they would be here, and for him to decide what to do.

Best you button up and get going, Lieutenant, he said as he leaped back into the carrier and sealed the hatch behind him. I can keep them busy with our turrets, give you time to make orbit.

Nein! Sergeant, I order you

Apologies, sir, but youd never get away otherwise, so my task is clear.

He cut the link as he rushed back along to the command deck, closing hatches as he went. True, the Colonels science officer had slaved all four of the turrets to the engineering console, but that wasnt the only modification he had carried out

The roar of the vortiwings spinjets grew to a shriek, landing struts loosened their grip and the transport lurched free. Moments later, the fourfold angled thrust was driving it upwards on a steep trajectory. Some of the Swarm outriders were already leading the flying host on an intercept course, until the carriers turrets opened fire upon them. Yet they would still have kept on after the ascending prey, had not the carrier itself now shifted like a great wounded beast and risen slowly from the long gouge it had made in the ground. Curtains of dust and grit fell from its underside, along with shattered fragments of hull plating and exterior sensors, and when the carrier turned its battered prow towards the centre of the caldera the Swarm host altered its course.