The Lazarus War: Artefact by Jamie Sawyer

handsome looks and bright-eyed nature were vaguely nauseating. Martinez rolled his eyes, said nothing: he’d probably spent more time in hypersleep than the rest of us combined, but that didn’t mean that he boasted about it.
    “All right people. The Q-space drive disengaged three days ago. Ship’s clock indicates we have been out of real-space for six months, exactly as planned. We’re inside the Maelstrom. There have been no reported enemy contacts.”
    “Would we know about it if there had been?” Jenkins croaked. “I take it that the Krell would have just blown us out of space without giving a warning.”
    Kaminski laughed at that. “Right on, sister.”
    “Simmer down, people,” I said. “As mission commander, I want to brief you all on the operation before we reach Helios. Assemble in the briefing room in one hour.”
      
    Briefing was tucked behind the bridge, an auditorium-style chamber that could accommodate four times the Oregon ’s current occupants. There was my squad, the ship’s officers under Atkins, and Olsen’s science staff. Barely twenty personnel, all told. I had set up a tri-D viewer at the head of the room, with mission papers spread across a table in front of me.
    The team gathered around and I briefed them on what I already knew about the Artefact – little as it was. Olsen must have previously prepped his people, because they showed little surprise at the revelation. They were all eager young faces, following us out into the dark in pursuit of knowledge. I’d seen their type too many times before, and the story never ended well. The Navy officers, on the other hand, were positively alarmed by the information. Save for Atkins and his closest personnel, the intelligence had been kept from the rest of the crew. This was a strictly need to know operation.
    I moved on to the meat of the brief.
    “The mission is codenamed Keystone, and it’s an insertion operation. We’ll deploy on Helios via APS. Straight down the pipe, landing virtually on top of the station. From there, we will conduct preliminary recon of the facility. Scanners are our friends, as always. We will attempt to recover any surviving station staff. We will not be attracting attention to ourselves. We will not stay and fight.”
    “What are the chances of finding anyone alive, Captain?” Martinez asked.
    “Your guess is as good as mine.”
    “The station has failed to report for twelve months objective,” Atkins added. He was making allowance for our journey from the Point . “There haven’t been any fresh broadcasts while we were en route. Read into that what you will.”
    Jenkins took the opportunity to question the captain further. “What about engine signatures from other ships entering or leaving Helios’ space? Do we know whether anyone else has been here in recent history?”
    Atkins shrugged. “That’s a loaded question, Corporal. If a human ship had dropped out of Q-space in the last few days, it would likely leave a tachyon spill – their trail back into real-space, as it were. But nothing. No one has been here.”
    “What about Krell ships?” Jenkins pushed.
    “That’s the complication,” Atkins explained. “They rarely leave an engine signature.”
    “That’s helpful nonetheless,” I muttered, thumbing through the mission papers. “Makes it more likely that the station was overrun by a Krell Collective on the ground.”
    “Which is where we come in,” Kaminski said, shooting an imaginary target with a pistol made from his fingers. “At least we can rule out the Directorate.”
    The news did little to lighten the mood though. We all knew that we were operating out here, in distant alien space, without back-up or support. The sense of anticipation was readable; an aura emanating from the gathered group. I took in their concerned faces – knew that I would have to keep morale up if this was going to work.
    “Once we’ve established whether the station is operational,” I said, “we