All the pain Ali had taken slammed back into his body again, but it paled into insignificance beside the pain of losing Ali, possibly forever. The physical pain was almost manageable compared to that.
Was Ali dead? Had it really been her? Could it have been a trick? If so, Jess couldn’t see the point. He hoped Ali remained, that he’d seen a reflection again, though one where Ali’s personality was in control this time. But he had to face the possibility it had been Ali herself, that a small part of her had managed to stay free, and so that she had sacrificed herself to save him. That she was gone forever.
This wasn’t the time to think about it. The Taint was still active and it was pushing against the area where he had grabbed control. He could easily push it back where he focused, but most of the barrier was extremely vulnerable to attack. There had been no time to build a strong perimeter, no time to strengthen it as he had before. The barrier was stretched thinly, and the Taint was already forcing its way through and claiming areas of the Wanderer. If Jess took too long then he’d lose control of the shields once more.
This time he felt far more confident as he activated the protocol. He knew it would work and wouldn’t affect him. The shields activated in the required pattern.
Nothing changed. The Taint continued to reclaim systems. Jess panicked. Why wasn’t it working? He checked the pattern of the shields and quickly saw that it was slightly different from what he had set. Were the shield generators damaged? No. Then what was happening?
Then he saw it. All the shields under his control were operating correctly, but he hadn’t counted on additional shields being activated in a way that disrupted the intended effect. Somehow the Taint had identified the danger, and found a way to avoid it. With those additional shields running the Tainted were safe.
Jess gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain searing its way through his body and mind. All that mattered was stopping the Taint. He adjusted some of the generators, changing their pattern to compensate for the effects of the rogue shields. The pattern was almost complete… then some of the rogue generators shut down, while new ones started up. The pattern was disrupted once more.
Jess wasn’t going to give up. He made adjustments again. Once more the rogue generators disrupted the pattern before it could fully form. And again. And again.
It felt like fencing with massive tree trunks. The situation needed exquisite control but he was stuck making crude changes. It might have seemed hopeless, but Jess was carefully studying the rogue shield generators. He soon realised were a very limited number and the Taint could do little more than turn them on or off.
He mapped out a contingency plan, then tried to form the pattern again. As the rogue generators activated he was ready for them and quickly adjusted his pattern again. It was working! The pattern was forming quickly. It was almost formed. It…
Another two rogue shield generators activated, ones he hadn’t seen used before. Fine. He could deal with those too. Repeating the process he had the pattern almost completed when a third rogue generator activated. This time it was only just enough to disrupt the pattern.
How long could this go on? How many spare generators did the Taint control? Potentially tens, maybe even hundreds, he realised. Many of them were smaller shields but that didn’t matter as long as they had sufficient power to disrupt the field.
Power. Maybe that was it. He repeated the process once more, this time accounting for all three new rogue shield generators. A fourth started, clashing with the pattern. Jess immediately poured more power into the nearby generators, pushing them well past their safety margins. The pattern steadied.
Five more rogue generators started to activate. The Taint had realised what Jess was doing and wanted to stop it. Too late. The pattern snapped into clarity before the five fired up properly. A wind blew the Taint before it again, but this time it was more a stiff breeze than a hurricane. The area covered by the Taint was far smaller and it cleared far more quickly.
Then the newly activated shield generators powered up fully and began interfering with the pattern. Knowing the Taint would soon be active again, Jess threw himself towards the five generators. He quickly took control and shut them down. The pattern steadied, then locked in place. The Taint was neutralised once more.
Not without cost. Jess had triggered more of the traps. The unbearable agony had increased in intensity. He didn’t have any more to give. He’d done what needed to be done. The Wanderer was safe, safe from the Tainted because of the shield pattern, safe from the chasing Imperial fleet because the Wanderer had reached jump space. The Wanderer could handle methodically recovering control of the rest of its systems. There was time now.
Jess tried to disengage, to return to the real world. He felt himself tugged in the right direction, but he was unable to move. The traps had become part of him. They were holding him where he was, preventing him from leaving.
The pain was more than he could bear. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk. Couldn’t think. Tears welled in his eyes as he curled into a ball, unable to escape and without the energy to fight back.
Agony continued to lash at his body and mind. A small part of him realised he was dying. The thought held no fear; in fact it was quite appealing. After all, death would bring an end to the pain… wouldn’t it?
Chapter 47
Jess had no idea how much time had passed. His mind had simply given up under the onslaught of pain. Unconsciousness was impossible in that realm, but he achieved the next best thing, a complete shutdown of the thinking part of his brain.
The lack of pain roused him. It wasn’t completely gone, far from it, but it had reduced greatly. He felt a cool presence, like hands resting on his head, and another chunk of the pain fell away from him. Someone was helping him. Someone was taking the pain away. Ali! It must be Ali!
Jess forced his eyes open, then stared around in confusion. Nothing was anywhere near. There was no sign of Ali, yet he still felt the cool hands, still felt the pain dropping away. He desperately reached out, trying to contact her.
He felt a presence, far closer than should have been possible given that he saw nothing. The presence was almost on top of him, and it wasn’t Ali. A moment later he realised what was different, and so what the presence was. The surrounding area was no longer enclosed by the flimsy barrier he had created. Something far stronger had taken its place. The Wanderer.
The Wanderer had finally reached the area where Jess had collapsed and had set about disabling the traps embedded in his… well, his body for want of a better word. Jess welcomed the relief but disappointment tore at his heart. He’d been certain the cooling, healing presence was proof that Ali still lived, that the core of her still existed in some form. Now he knew that wasn’t the case. The possibility that Ali was fully dead, completely gone, washed over Jess again. He collapsed, curling into a ball, tears pouring down his cheeks.
* * *
As the Wanderer vanished into Jump space, Vorn went deathly still. The officers around him held their breath, desperately hoping not to draw his attention.
Vorn stared at the screen, trying to understand. Was the Wanderer toying with him? Teasing him? Was it trying to make him angry? Was it trying to force him into a mistake? Into doing something rash? Impossible as it seemed, was the Wanderer forcing him into a position where he was vulnerable?
The thought was both ridiculous and chilling. Ridiculous because no ship that size could possible pose a risk to his fleet. Chilling because the Wanderer continued to do one impossible thing after another. Besides, the Wanderer might not be aiming for the entire fleet, it might be aiming for just him and his battlecruiser.
How, though? How could it strike against him? His eyes fell on the Wanderer’s shuttle and he allowed himself a cold smile. Of course. He’d planned on bringing the shuttle aboard. Now that seemed a bad idea. He needed somewhere else, a ship whose captain and crew were reliable yet expendable.
“Admiral, boarding crew has reached the enemy shuttle.�
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The reporting officer had spoken in precisely clipped tones and held himself rigid, waiting for an acknowledgement. Vorn noted the signs of extreme stress; the tensed muscles, the beads of sweat, the slight shifts in position. The officer was terrified he would become the focus of Vorn’s anger. As well he might. It wouldn’t be the first time.
The officer was in luck. Vorn had spotted the trap laid for him and was about to turn it around.
“I want everyone on that shuttle delivered to the Shogan immediately,” Vorn ordered. “And the shuttle delivered to the Light of Skaros. Notify me immediately they arrive.”
“Aye, Sir!”
Vorn knew the captains of the two ships wouldn’t be happy, especially the captain of the Shogan. Tough! Either the shuttle or something on it was extremely dangerous. Vorn needed to know what. More than that, though, he needed to know what was happening on the Wanderer and how the ship did such amazing things.
Those pulled off the shuttle might not be keen to answer. That was fine. Vorn was already drawing up a schedule of persuasion, starting with gentle requests but soon diving into the realms of torture and drugs. The schedule would be stuck to even if the captives appeared to be answering honestly and openly from the start. After all, he had to make sure they weren’t lying.
* * *
The dull clang of metal meeting metal told Sal the first assault ship had arrived. She couldn’t see it so it must have attached to the back of the shuttle. Moments later the control board lit up with structural failure and depressurisation warnings. Apparently the Imperial forces were cutting their way into the main cabin the quick and dirty way.
She shivered slightly. She was fine where she was for the moment, but if they decided to cut into the cockpit in the same way she’d be in a lot of trouble.
Something moved to her left. Turning Sal saw another assault ship closing in quickly. It braked at the last minute, coming to rest only a few feet from where she sat. A short tunnel shot out, sealing itself around the shuttle’s door.
Through the door she saw several people wearing combat armour charging forwards. The first slowed enough to attach something to the door, then shoved away. Sal tensed herself, waiting for an explosion, for the freezing touch of vacuum. She remembered the emergency suit stowed away under her seat, but it was too late.
She jumped as something bright flashed outside the doorway. There was no crash, no boom. The troopers charged forwards again, levelling weapons as they came. The closest grabbed the shuttle door and dragged it open.
Sal screamed, expecting to feel the cabin’s air rushing out. It was an automatic reaction, one from deep down, one that was impossible to restrain. She pulled in the breath for a second scream, then stopped in confusion. She’d expected breathing to be difficult, if not impossible. The cockpit was small so it wouldn’t contain much air. The open doorway should have emptied all the air within a second or two. How was she still breathing?
“Freeze!”
One of the troopers knelt in the doorway, rifle aimed squarely at Sal’s chest. Another stood behind, aiming at Sal over the first trooper’s head. This was a dangerous situation. Sal raised her hands slowly.
“Hands on your head. Move towards us. Slowly.”
“I need to unbuckle myself,” Sal replied, her voice a mixture of calm and meekness. Not wanting to offend. Not wanting to upset those with the guns.
“Do it slowly, then. One suspicious move and you’re dead.”
Sal slowly started to move her hands towards the buckles, not that she believed the threat now. Someone was going to a lot of effort to retrieve her alive, rather than simply blasting the shuttle apart. Anyone shooting her was likely to be in a whole heap of trouble.
She wasn’t going to take any chances, though. One nervous soldier could put a stop to everything she had planned. Slowly she released the buckles, slipped out of them, then returned her hands to their resting place on her head.
“Good,” the trooper said. “Now slowly move towards us.”
She did as they asked, moving awkwardly with her hands still on her head. As she drew near to the troopers one of them lowered his rifle and grabbed her, quickly twisting her round and securing her hands behind her back.
She was pulled out and shoved towards the assault ship. It was so close to her shuttle the gravity fields were overlapping. She felt queasy as the moved through the area where the two fields interacted. And then she was on the ship. Several troopers kept her covered with their rifles while she was secured to a chair. Then everyone seemed to relax, as if any potential danger had been dealt with.
Sal almost laughed out loud. If she’d wanted proof the force hadn’t spent much time amongst the Gifted this was it. Yes, they were nervous and cautious, but anyone with experience of the Gifted would do almost anything to avoid being on the same ship as one of them, orders or no orders.
Several clangs announced they were disconnecting from the shuttle. For a moment she wondered whether they would analyse it or simply destroy it. It didn’t matter to her. It had achieved what she wanted it to. She wouldn’t be needing it again.
Acceleration pushed Sal into her seat. Several troopers still kept weapons trained on her, though the nervous edge had gone. Sal relaxed, waiting to see what would happen.
The journey was short. Soon she felt the ship decelerating, then being nudged around. Finally it settled onto a surface with a slight bump. The troopers were on edge again. One came forward and released Sal from the chair. This time they didn’t secure her hands.
Sal slowly rose to her feet. One of the troopers gestured towards the back of the ship where a hatch had opened. Sal moved toward it and started down, blinking into the bright light as she went.
She wasn’t surprised to see more troopers waiting for her, each and every one wearing full battle armour and with their weapon in hand. Sal stopped at the bottom of the ramp, waiting for instructions.
“This way,” a trooper told her, gesturing.
From the voice she thought this one was a woman but it was hard to tell. Sal followed meekly. It wasn’t the time to cause trouble. Yet.
They only walked for a couple of minutes before the trooper gestured towards an open door. Sal walked through and found herself in a small room which couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a cell. The door boomed shut behind, making her jump slightly. She let out a deep breath. She was safe. For the moment at least.
* * *
Admiral Vorn stared at a frozen image of Sal. He’d expected the shuttle to contain several people at least, but they’d found only one. That narrowed down the interrogation techniques considerably. They couldn’t risk her dying, and many of the most effective techniques involved seeing a friend in pain.
Capturing the shuttle had been a reflex action. The right action, but still a reflex. Now he had to decide what to do. With the Wanderer having escaped yet again the question was whether to interrogate the prisoner immediately.
Vorn wanted to be directly involved in the questioning, though from the safety of his own ship. That ruled out an interrogation in jump space when inter-ship communication was impossible. Every moment they delayed gave the Wanderer a greater lead. Vorn knew they would catch the Wanderer again eventually, but he wanted it to be sooner rather than later. If the Wanderer dropped out of jump space, even for a short while, then his fleet needed to be on top of it.
On the other hand, what use was catching the Wanderer if they couldn’t disable her? Watching their prey slip out from under their noses one more time would not only be frustrating, it might start the officers questioning Vorn’s competence. A round of officer culls might prevent that, or it might make it worse.
Interrogating the prisoner could provide the information needed to finally capture the Wanderer, or it might not. How would he feel if the hours or days taken to question the prisoner produced nothing useful? What if she knew nothing about the Wanderer and had simply been jettisoned as a decoy?
So hunt down
the Wanderer immediately, knowing it would almost certainly slip away again, or spend time interrogating a prisoner who might tell them nothing useful. Even if she did the Wanderer would then have a massive lead. Neither was a good option.
Which left one other, which Vorn had avoided even thinking about until then. The Omega Beam. Officially it didn’t exist, even as a concept. It was a new type of weapon, just recently developed by the Empire’s immense weapons research programme. Vorn had no idea how it worked. That information was highly classified, as was the fact the weapon even existed. Fewer than twenty ships had been fitted with the Omega Beam so far. The Starslayer was one.
Almost no one on the battlecruiser had any idea the Omega Beam even existed. Those trusted with the knowledge were also firmly told what an information breach would mean, no matter the cause. It made a long, slow, painful death look appealing. Even Vorn faced those sanctions.
Using the weapon wasn’t quite forbidden. Why fit it if it was? But it was only to be used in absolute emergencies, the kind that threatened the Empire as a whole. Between the Taint and the powers the Wanderer possessed, Vorn decided this was such an emergency. If those he reported to disagreed then the consequences for Vorn would be horrific. Even if they decided he’d made the right choice they might still throw him to the wolves as an example.
But… maybe it wouldn’t have to be like that, not with the Wanderer’s technology at his command. He’d already seen the Empire was in trouble. It was falling to the Taint. Only the Quarantine Zone was preventing an all out rout. Why should Vorn obey the old rules?
When he returned he would be bringing technology beyond anything the Empire had seen before. Why should he come crawling back on his knees, begging forgiveness? Shouldn’t he return proudly, head held high, leading those who’d helped him? The shortcuts he’d taken to get there, the forbidden steps, shouldn’t matter in the least. Only the chance he brought, the hope, the light, should matter.
Wanderer's Odyssey - Books 1 to 3: The Epic Space Opera Series Begins Page 85
