by Ben Wolf
“You might as well. The damage to your ship from their antimatter missiles already says a helluva lot about what kind of shit you’re in.”
Hallie cast a nervous glance at Bryant but didn’t say a word.
Captain Marlowe pulled his silver case from his jacket pocket and popped it open. “Look, Miss Hayes—”
“Doctor Hayes. Several times over, in fact,” she corrected him.
“Dr. Hayes,” Captain Marlowe repeated.
He plucked a new metal stick from the case, positioned it between his teeth, and bit down with a faint crunch. Then he let out a small sigh and closed his eyes for a second as he tucked the case back into his jacket.
When he opened his eyes, he said, “We already know you’ve got something in your possession that ACM wants. Or they’re after one of your number, or both. Frankly, I don’t give two twisted tankards what the situation is, but I do care about what you mean to do about it.”
Justin watched Hallie’s every move. Despite Captain Marlowe’s pressuring, she remained poised, her posture straight, on the edge of her chair.
“For the time being, we’re safe here,” she replied. “It’s part of the reason we rented this specific house. We couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t catch up, so we petitioned Captain James, who captains the Nidus, to secure it for us. He also promised us that Farcoast soldiers would assist us should ACM show up.”
[She’s in for some bad news, huh?] Keontae said.
“Hate to break it to you, but Captain James is dead, and so are the Farcoast soldiers. Probably all of them,” Captain Marlowe said. “Saw it happen before my very eyes.”
Hallie’s eyebrows rose at that. She looked at Justin. “How?”
“When ACM showed up, the admiral of their ship, a guy named Sever, tried to negotiate with Captain James, probably to find you,” Justin said. “Captain James wouldn’t budge, so Admiral Sever killed him, right there, on the spot. That sparked a firefight, and ACM had way more men, so they overran the Farcoast soldiers. Game over.”
Bryant had been standing next to the fireplace near a bookshelf embedded into a wall. At that, he stepped forward. “You mean to tell me that every Farcoast soldier is dead now? They’re not fighting the ACM troops as we speak?”
“Maybe not all of them,” Justin said, “but most of them, yeah. It was a hell of a battle.”
“We barely escaped with our lives,” Captain Marlowe added. “Some of our crew weren’t so lucky.”
“Knowing ACM, they will have torn your ship apart by now looking for whatever you’re hiding,” Arlie said. “So you’re stuck here ’til they find you.”
“This ship has a bazillion escape transports,” Hallie said. “We can escape on one of those.”
“And go where?” Captain Marlowe asked. “The ACM warship will shoot you down or incapacitate any vessel before you make it very far, and even if you could make it past, those transports won’t have warp capability, and there’s nothing else out here.”
Hallie glanced at Bryant, whose frown had deepened.
“You don’t have a lot of options here,” Captain Marlowe continued. “So maybe you oughta consider giving up your prize.”
“Absolutely not. Out of the question.” Hallie shook her head.
“So it’s a person, then,” Captain Marlowe said.
“I never said that,” Hallie countered.
“You’re being too defensive for it not to be.” Captain Marlowe scanned the faces of each of the crew. “One of you is more important than you seem.”
Was it a person? Justin couldn’t be sure. After all, he’d seen Hallie leaving the ship carrying something, and whatever had been in that suspension crate aboard the Persimmon wasn’t in there anymore. Then again, had anything been in there in the first place?
“I won’t entertain conversation of this sort.” Hallie folded her arms.
“This is the only kind of conversation you can entertain,” Captain Marlowe said. “This conversation is literally determining your fate as we discuss it.”
Bryant squared himself with Captain Marlowe. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s not a threat. We’re not the bad guys.” Captain Marlowe held up one palm in surrender. “But the bad guys are coming, make no mistake. And what you decide now will determine what happens to all of us.”
“You don’t want to be here, then leave,” Bryant said.
“Dying to protect your friends is very noble, but it’s better not to die at all,” Captain Marlowe said. “All you can accomplish by staying here is dying. This place could be an impenetrable vault—and we’ve already shown it’s not—and you’d still lose. Eventually, you’ll run out of food and water, and then it’ll be over. Staying here forever is not an option.”
“Neither is handing it over,” Bryant said.
“Bryant!” Hallie snapped.
“Shit…” He turned toward her. “Sorry, Hallie. Shit.”
So it wasn’t a person after all. It must’ve been whatever Hallie had with her when she’d left the Persimmon for the second time.
“Like I said, I don’t care what it is. But now that we know it’s an it rather than a him or a her, that makes it a lot easier. Just deliver it in a package to ACM, and let them go on their way. No one needs to get hurt.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little naïve?” Luke, the other guy from Hallie’s ship, challenged. “You just told us how ACM took out everyone in the docking bay, including Captain James. I could see them justifying killing the Farcoast soldiers because they’re armed, aggressive rivals, but they also killed a high-ranking Coalition official.
“Do you really think they’ll let this ship keep floating toward its destination without its captain and with that many already dead? Especially when they have the firepower to wipe the whole ship from existence? That’s their next play once they get what they’re after.”
Captain Marlowe gave a nod. “You raise a good point, actually. There may be no way to win in this situation.”
“Nah,” Lora blurted. “Forget this. Give it up, and let’s take our chances with them being merciful. They might let us go. We got our own ship anyway. We can be gone and outta sight before they do whatever they’re gonna do here.”
Arlie stared daggers at Lora, and Lora noticed.
“What? I’m talking about the issue at hand, not the other thing.”
Arlie’s stare persisted, and Lora shrank back into her seat with her arms folded.
“No.” Captain Marlowe shifted the metal stick to the other side of his mouth and continued chewing. “His point is valid. They’re behaving this way because they don’t intend to leave any survivors. I hadn’t considered that.”
“In any case, we can’t give it up,” Hallie said. “And yes, it is an it, but I’m not saying anything else about it. Anyway, it’s too valuable to the Coalition. Captain James understood that. And now he and Captain Dawes, our pilot, have both died because of it, along with countless Farcoast soldiers. Their deaths won’t mean anything if we just hand it over.”
“Then jettison it into space,” Captain Marlowe said. “Or destroy it. Be rid of it somehow. That way, whatever it is, ACM won’t get ahold of it.”
“I can’t do that. I won’t. This is my life’s work,” Hallie said. “And if there’s even a chance that we can get it away from here safely, we have to try for it.”
[Well, she’s dedicated. You gotta give ’er that.]
“Even if that means it falls into ACM’s hands?” Justin asked.
“I wouldn’t let that happen. There’s a failsafe, but again, I really can’t say more than that.”
“Those damned nondisclosure agreements, huh?” Justin quipped.
Hallie gave him a melancholy smile. “Something like that.”
Damn. Thought that would’ve gotten more of a rise out of her.
“Well, we’ve talked ourselves into a pit with no obvious way out,” Captain Marlowe said. “I don’t know what other solution there is.�
��
An idea hit Justin.
A really, really dumb idea.
But it was crazy enough that it just might work.
“I think…” he began.
Everyone turned their attention toward him.
“I think I have a plan.”
[Oh, shit. This doesn’t sound good…]
“Our problem is that there are too many troops, right?” Justin said. “And the other problem is that even if we did get past them, we could never get the rig past the Avarice.”
“The what?” Bryant asked.
“The Avarice. That’s the name of ACM’s ship,” Captain Marlowe explained.
Hallie scoffed. “Fitting.”
“Yeah,” Justin said. “Like I was saying, we’ve got to get past them both… but what if we didn’t have to?”
“What are you suggesting?” Captain Marlowe asked.
“Okay… this is gonna sound batshit crazy, but bear with me, okay?”
With each passing minute, Admiral Sever grew more and more perturbed at his soldiers’ inability to locate their quarry. By now, a few hours had gone by, and he had yet to receive any actionable intel from his men spreading throughout the Nidus.
He’d hoped to retrieve it and be off this damned colonist ship within a day or less, but the utter lack of success thus far had dashed those hopes into oblivion. Commander Falstaff was doing his best, Sever knew, but perhaps that wouldn’t be enough.
He knew of a way to possibly speed up the process, but Andridge’s corporate offices had told him he wasn’t permitted to pursue such an option unless there was no other viable alternative. It was only a prototype after all, and it hadn’t been thoroughly field-tested. Even corporate didn’t really know what it was capable of.
Yet they’d also told him to succeed by any means necessary. They couldn’t have been clearer about it. Given that, why wouldn’t he use every asset available to him to ensure his success?
He grinned. Ever since corporate had installed the pod aboard the Avarice, Sever’s morbid curiosity had burgeoned. He wanted to see what it could do, and there was only one way to find out.
He had to deploy the asset.
And that’s exactly what he was going to do.
Sever tapped his handscreen, and it blazed to life, along with the main viewscreen in his private transport ship. Captain Gable’s image materialized onscreen, with the clean, white bridge of the Avarice behind him.
“Admiral,” Gable greeted him with a salute and a steely gaze. “How goes the search?”
“Fine,” Sever replied. “But not fast enough. I am issuing the release order on the prototype.”
Captain Gable paused for a moment, as if reflecting. His face contorted slightly, perhaps in thought—or disgust—and then it reset. “Understood.”
“Launch the pod toward the Nidus and direct it to the docking bay near my transport’s position. I will handle it from there.”
“Aye, Admiral,” Captain Gable said, his tone flat and tinged with disdain. “Commencing launch now.”
Sever ignored it. Captain Gable would have to deal with his own sour grapes. “Over and out, Captain.”
He ended the transmission and stood.
As he exited his private transport, a pod the size of a small hovercar drifted into the docking bay through the nearest entry field. It landed on its own next to his transport, hissing as it settled on the docking bay floor. It was sleek and chrome on its bottom half, and its top half continued its oblong shape but in black, opaque glass instead of chrome.
Sever approached the pod and entered his personal access code onto the screen, still cold to the touch from the frigid vacuum of space. The screen requested physical verification, so he pressed his palm flat onto its icy surface. It read his prosthetic just as it would a normal hand. When it finished scanning, it requested audible confirmation.
“Admiral Siroch Sever,” he said to it. “Passcode: Crimson Flame.”
The screen displayed the word “APPROVED” in bold green letters, and then the pod began to hiss again. First, a chrome drawer slid out from the bottom of the pod, under where the glass ended. Within the padded foam casing inside the drawer lay a small black orb topped with a red thumb-switch. Behind the orb lay a narrow metal tube about six inches long.
Sever picked up the orb first and then the tube. From his briefing, he already knew what the orb was, but he activated the metal tube anyway. A small hologram emanated from a pinprick-sized lens in its center, displaying an image of a pretty young woman with red hair and wearing a white lab coat.
“Hello, Admiral,” she said. “Thank you for agreeing to help the company’s Research and Development branch with this field test. We’re glad you saw fit to deploy this asset during your current mission.
“As you know, this is a prototype model, and it is the result of generations of scientific research, study, and testing. We are confident of the kind of results you can expect, but of course we are eager to track the asset’s efficiency in a real-time combat situation.”
I’ll bet you are, Sever mused.
“We have already briefed you on the full range of this asset’s capabilities as well as the failsafe protocols should anything go wrong, though we do not expect anything of the sort,” she continued. “You have already activated the unit, and the black failsafe orb—which we have lovingly nicknamed “the Pilkington,” after the head of the company’s R & D department—may be activated via the red switch in case such protocols must be observed.
“In order to properly function, the Pilkington must be within fifty feet of the asset. The frequency it emits will not harm humans, cyborgs, or androids within that range, though in some tests, subjects mentioned experiencing mild discomfort from the sound the device produces.” The woman smiled. “Rest assured, all subjects were perfectly fine following subsequent wellness tests.
“Please be sure to keep the Pilkington in a secure location so as to safeguard the asset and the company’s intellectual property. In closing, we at R & D thank you again for your willingness to participate in this exciting venture. This message device will self-incinerate in ten seconds.”
The hologram winked out, and streams of bright sparks promptly spat out of both ends of the tube. Sever tossed it aside, even though it likely wouldn’t have harmed his prosthetic hands to continue holding it. The tube clanged against the docking bay floor and burned itself to ash.
Sever studied the Pilkington’s smooth black reflective sheen and the crisp red switch on top. He didn’t expect he’d need it, but he tucked it into the front pocket of his trousers all the same for safekeeping.
As he did so, the black glass pulled away from the chrome part of the pod, and plumes of violet vapor erupted from the widening space in between.
Sever stepped back and watched as the pod continued to separate. He tried to peer inside the pod, but all the vapor and mist obscured his vision.
The decompression process lasted another few seconds until finally the last of the violet vapor dissipated into the docking bay. But when Sever looked down into the pod, all he could see was a black speckled sheet draped over a massive form.
Was the thing dead? Had corporate done this as a sick joke? Or were they just thoroughly incompetent?
Had it died at some point between Andridge’s genetic engineering facilities and the Avarice? Or had he somehow accessed it improperly and accidentally killed it?
As he considered the variety of possibilities, he caught a bit of movement from under the sheet. It wasn’t dead after all.
Then a large violet-colored hand reached up and out of the pod. The hand grabbed the edge of the black glass, and another hand grabbed the edge of the chrome and started to pull itself upright. When it pulled the black sheet off its head and rose to its full height, Admiral Sever smiled.
Perhaps corporate wasn’t solely populated by idiots after all.
14
As Admiral Sever sat in a chair just outside his transport’s personal armo
ry, Commander Falstaff entered and saluted.
“You summoned me, sir?” Falstaff said.
“Yes, Commander.” Sever folded his hands and looked up at Falstaff. “I take it you still haven’t found that which we seek?”
“It is only a matter of time, sir,” Falstaff replied.
An indirect answer. An evasion of sorts, and usually Falstaff prided himself on being direct. Was he actually worried about his chances for success?
Sever chose to let it slide. “What can you tell me?”
“Our men are gradually searching the city, but…” Falstaff hesitated. “…but it’s a large city. If we had more men, it would go faster.”
“As you pointed out, we lost many in the last battle,” Sever said. “And those that remain aboard the ship must remain so as a contingency.”
Falstaff’s jaw tensed. “Then we will make do with the forces we have.”
“What kind of resistance are we facing?” Sever asked.
“Minimal. Disorganized. Though I suspect it will intensify the deeper into the city we progress. They will have had more time to prepare.”
“This is why civilians shouldn’t be allowed to own guns,” Sever muttered.
“I agree, sir.”
“Surveillance?” Sever asked.
“We’re running our own, sir, but the city isn’t moving except when we make it move. Not a lot of intel there.”
“And the Nidus’s surveillance systems?”
“Not bulletproof, but damn good, sir. Resilient,” Falstaff said. “I’ve got our finest techs working on it now. If we can get in there, we should be able to zip this up much faster.”
“Fine.”
Something clanked behind Sever, from inside the armory.
Falstaff’s expression changed to one of confusion and wariness as he looked between the door and Sever, who grinned.
“I didn’t say you would be leaving empty-handed.” Sever rose to his feet and knocked on the outside wall of the armory. Heavy footsteps sounded from within, advancing closer to the armory door. “Rather than mustering more infantry from the Avarice to aid in your search, I decided to recruit some special assistance for you.”
