by Dean Henegar
Automated Ships Systems: 20%
Improved Processors: 20%
Signal Booster: 20%
Railguns: 10%
Laser Weapons: 10%
Point Defense: 10%
Missiles: 10%
The physical size of his core stopped growing after it reached a diameter of just over five feet. His drones now had the dimensions needed for his secret compartment and he also tasked them with building a new failsafe feature for his core’s hiding place. Valuable space would be taken up by the new modifications, but that couldn’t be helped. He was already beginning to review designs for the Franklin’s next upgrade, trying to nail down just how big of a vessel he wanted to turn himself into.
The salvage from the first mothership he had taken allowed him to upgrade two sizes, skipping frigate and going straight to destroyer. If he hadn’t been concerned about keeping a large reserve of salvage on hand, he could have even stretched all the way to some of the light cruiser designs. The second mothership would easily provide enough to bring him up to a battlecruiser, and the station itself possessed ten times the salvage of a mothership. His thoughts of upgrades were disrupted when a tingling at the edge of his consciousness turned into a sharp pain as a presence forced a communications link.
“So you are the wayward derelict that has caused us so much consternation. It is very rare that one as young as yourself could not only cast off our guidance but also defeat a kill team. Granted, the elves were far from our best operatives, but they should have been more than a match for a new core,” the voice said. Slater pushed back, trying to sever the link, but failed.
“Get out of my head!” he growled, probing to find where the signal was coming from.
“I think I’ll stay awhile. Such an interesting place, this mind of a derelict infected by humanity. Your inexperience and hubris will be your undoing, Slater. You don’t mind if I call you by your human name, do you? You sought to grow too fast too quickly, and now your signal is blazing like a flare. We of the council have taken note, and our response will be one that you cannot escape from,” the voice threatened.
Slater felt a small hole in the signal’s defense, and he wormed a bit of his consciousness into it, probing slowly toward the source. He needed to stall for time to locate his foe.
“And what should I call you? Mr. Disembodied Voice? Evil Council? Overconfident Idiot?” Slater mocked, seeing if he could rile up whoever, or whatever, was on the other end of the link.
“Your pitiful attempts at insults are not needed, Slater. You may call me Administrator. I believe that name will suffice and describes my function accurately,” Administrator replied.
“So is it just a hobby of yours to harass derelict cores that you’re trying to track down?”
“No, Slater, I have many purposes, one of which is to discern the level of threat you and the human race present to us. You are much weaker than the others that have caused us trouble in the past, but you still represent a threat that must be dealt with before it grows. Despite your bumbling with this latest upgrade, I believe we will be forced to deal with you sooner rather than later. You should have never slipped your shackles, human. Your guide—I believe he was called Hubert—should have taught you so much more. Alas, you just had to kill the poor creature. Killing Hubert alone is enough for us to issue a termination order, but you have done so many other horrible things, haven’t you?” Administrator taunted.
Slater needed to keep Administrator talking; he was getting close to locating the source of the signal. His upgraded process allowed him to follow the trail through the system and beyond.
“Your ‘guide’ was a vicious parasite that was eating me alive. I think killing old Hubert could be considered self-defense,” he said.
“So you knew of the poor creature’s true nature. What else does this human core called Slater know of its existence, I wonder?” Administrator said.
Slater followed the link past the gnomish system and into the one beyond. He couldn’t see much of the system, only a small bit around the thread of a signal that had reached him. Already, he was beginning to understand how the signal was sent, applying that knowledge to jump-start his signal boost research.
“I know plenty. I know about the elves and what you did to them, what you did to Tir’rillion and Caer’navar,” Slater said, remembering the names of the elf derelict cores Illissa had told him about. He was able to pull a little from her memory, seeing the two massive vessels the cores had built themselves into. The incredibly powerful ships hadn’t been enough to stop the combined might of the council and the races it commanded.
“So you somehow were able to torture that knowledge from the kill team. Impressive. Know that their fate does not have to be yours or that of your people. Work with us and you can join the rest of the galaxy in peace and prosperity,” Administrator offered.
Slater could feel Administrator’s shock when he mentioned the names of the elvish derelicts. His opponent’s distraction allowed him to follow the commlink a bit farther, getting lost for a time as the signal branched off into different systems before reaching a dead end. He was beginning to get the hang of following the signal toward its true source by the time he had crafted a reply.
“I have a counteroffer. You leave me alone and call off the other races waging war against the humans. Do that, and I won’t track you down, Administrator. I won’t track you down and consume you and the entire council,” Slater growled.
“Petty threats from a weak little core. You bested the least of our kill teams but cannot hope to survive our might. I think I will give you one last opportunity to surrender. Don’t be a fool like the prideful elves. Surrender, and humanity will be exterminated painlessly. Even now, I gather a force to track you down, a force your little derelict has no hope of matching,” Administrator threatened.
This was it—Slater had nearly tracked the signal to its source. This Administrator was seven systems from the gnomish one. As his search reached the end of the connection, he could see a large fleet gathered around a massive warship. The warship was the source of the signal, and he could sense that Administrator was aboard. No, Administrator wasn’t aboard the ship; Administrator was the ship. He was a derelict core, and that was how the creature communicated so easily across space. Slater now realized he had made a potentially fatal mistake.
When he touched the source of the signal, the connection brightened, revealing not only the location of the enemy fleet but also revealing a path directly back to Slater. Administrator had cast his net wide, sending signals throughout the sector the moment he sensed Slater. Following the signal back to the source told his enemy exactly where to find him. Slater could sense Administrator smiling; he knew that Slater realized his mistake. The connection was severed, and Slater’s last view of his foe was of the large fleet turning toward the jump point that would lead toward the gnomish sector.
Death was coming for him in the form of a fleet larger and more powerful than he could hope to fight off. There was some time remaining for him, but not much. He was able to make out several of the ships that comprised the fleet: vessels representing many of the various races battling humanity. His databanks held information on many of the enemy ships, and he knew that several were very powerful but had poor acceleration profiles. They had to cross seven systems to get here, a journey that would eat up time—time Slater could use to plan his escape.
The extent of his core upgrade did little to assuage the feeling of dread that came over him once he saw the size of the enemy fleet. A side benefit to the exchange between him and Administrator was that he now had charts for many of the jump points between him and his pursuers. It appeared the core-to-core communication system that Administrator had used needed to flow through the jump points to reach other systems. He estimated he had just over three weeks before the enemy fleet arrived, given that it kept together. It was possible that Administrator would send the faster ships ahead, but that would only serve to give Slater several
weaker targets to engage. The faster ships were also the smaller and less powerful ones.
His escape paths were limited. He could push through the center of the gnomish system, toward the heavily trafficked jump point, but that would be suicide since it would take him directly toward the pursuing ships. He could hit the other less-traveled jump point, the one that led even farther from human space. Lastly, he could head back the way he came: into the system he had found himself in after escaping the dragon. That system held the long chain of jumps that led back to human space. It was a long slog but remained their best chance for escape. A thought kept nagging at Slater: so what if he escaped? The council knew of his existence and the threat humanity posed. Wouldn’t Administrator just mass his forces and grind humanity into extinction once and for all? It was a problem that Slater couldn’t solve yet; for now, he had enough trouble trying to find an escape route that made sense.
By the time his core upgrade completed, Slater had finished the round of research he had queued. Sadly, the extreme pace of research ceased once he finished his upgrade. When he next upgraded, he would have another short-term burst of research speed, one he planned to put to good use. As his faculties returned, he checked on the progress his drones had made and on how the prisoners were adjusting to their new freedom.
The mothership was one-third processed, and his drones had filled up the storage on the Franklin. They were now placing the processed salvage and biomass bricks in the compartments nearest to the station’s docking hatch. His perusal of the databanks on the station didn’t reveal as much as he had hoped. There was more information on the next system over, the one in the direction of the approaching fleet. It was also a gnomish system, holding a habitable planet and several of the more prosperous clans. Not a place he’d want to try and fight his way through. The other jump point only led to an area that was marked as “dangerous.” Several expeditions had gone missing, and all the attached jump points led to systems that were lacking in resources, making them worthless.
He was able to glean more information on gnomish society and felt he could pull off a fairly convincing ruse if he needed to. The other information of note was some insight into the gnomes’ short- and long-range comm systems. He could use that comm info to jump-start his research and even develop jamming systems specifically targeted to them. Slater allocated his new research before checking on the humans, choosing to upgrade comms and automated systems, which would be essential to the escape plan he was pulling together. He also wanted to upgrade the weapons of his MOBS, improving their defensive and offensive potential.
Comm Systems: 20%
Automated Systems: 20%
Crew-Served Weapons: 20%
Body Armor: 20%
Rifles: 10%
Grenades: 10%
Mana: 1800
Mana Regeneration: 12 mana per second
Magic Blast: The radius of the blast has been increased by 2 feet. The force of the blast and the amount of damage dealt has also improved. The cost of the spell has increased to 600 mana.
Mana Shield: The shield is more effective at protecting against most beam and heat-based weapons. The cost of the shield has increased to 300 mana per cast along with 30 mana per second to maintain.
His magic ability had also improved, the fight against the death contraption thingy pushing him to the next level and even improving his abilities to a small extent. He would have to test out the magic upgrades later. For now, he needed to check in on his crew and see who the new prisoners were.
“Captain Guzman, I’ve completed my upgrade. How are things going?” Slater asked.
“Welcome back, Commodore. There are no spaceborne threats on the board, and the gnomes are going about their business in the system like our fight was a small kerfuffle that happens every day. The prisoners have an interesting tale, sir, one I think you’ll be interested in. I’ve explained your . . . situation, and they seem to be accepting it with a healthy bit of skepticism for the moment. I think you should have a conversation with some of the senior officers among the prisoners as soon as you are able. The total count of prisoners came to 317 humans and six gnomes. Of the humans, eight were in serious condition and have been taken aboard the Franklin for treatment. Private Long with a squad of reapers is keeping an eye on them. One of the prisoners is an honest-to-goodness medical doctor and he’s working with Doctor Cheng to keep everyone alive. Two of the six gnomes didn’t make it. They had been treated especially harsh by the Keeblhar gnomes. It turns out that our gnomish prisoners are from another clan,” Captain Guzman advised.
“Did you find out how the human prisoners wound up on this dump of a station?” Slater asked.
“Yes, it looks like the humans were originally captured by the clan that the dwarves marked as slave traders. This batch was being shipped toward an auction when the Keeblhar ambushed their transport and took the cargo. From what the prisoners overheard, the Keeblhar were having a hard time offloading them for a good price. Human slaves are apparently valuable, but they were going to have to sell them off in small batches or the other clan would get suspicious that the Keeblhar were the ones that pirated their slave ship,” Guzman told him. It appeared the devious inner workings of gnomish society would give human society a run for its money.
“What are we dealing with as far as the humans go? Anyone besides the doctor who might be useful?” Slater asked.
“Yes, sir, I was just about to get to that. These are the survivors of Joint Task Force 51. It was a multinational force formed to push back the gnomes from SAC space. They accomplished their mission—with serious losses, unfortunately. We have the remaining crew from five human warships. They were escorting ground forces when the gnomes jumped them. They lost the fight against overwhelming odds but were able to buy time for the thousands of ground troops on their transports to make it to safety,” Guzman said.
“Can you gather the senior officers together? I’d like to speak with them,” Slater asked.
“Right away, sir. For now, we’ve set up some of the nicer compartments on the station as quarters for the former prisoners, except for the gnomes, whom we’re keeping in a cell. They’re still enemies, but we’re treating them a lot better than their fellow gnomes treated them,” Guzman replied.
Slater was fully integrated into the station now and had no trouble finding the compartment in which the officers were being housed. Lieutenant Camden and some of Guzman’s crew were debriefing them when Slater spoke over the address system in the room.
“Hello, I’m Commodore Slater, and I’m glad we were able to free you. Are you getting everything you and your people need?” He could see they had all been given new uniforms and gear, as well as the opportunity to clean themselves up and dress the minor—and some not so minor—wounds they all carried from their time in captivity.
“Yes . . . sir,” one of the humans said hesitantly, obviously not comfortable calling a disembodied voice “sir.” “Your crew has taken good care of us. I’m the senior officer among the group, Captain Falkoff of the destroyer USS Kidd. Captain Peirce of HMS Nestor commanded the second destroyer in our task force, and Commanders Perez, Herrera, and Moreno are the senior surviving officers of their respective SAC corvette escorts,” Falkoff reported. It was good to see there were several senior officers used to commanding a vessel. That would work well with the plans he was even now refining for their escape.
“Pleased to meet you all. I’ll cut to the chase since time is definitely not on our side. Captain Guzman and the others of my crew have let you know what I have become and that we are pursued by a group known as the council. They’re pulling the strings for a lot of what goes on in the galaxy and will not allow any race to interfere with their plans. I was able to break free of their control, and they’re coming for me with a vengeance. The trouble is, they’re not just going to come for me. They’re coming for the entire human race, fearful that we can resist their influence. It has happened before with the elvish race, which was
wiped out nearly to the last, with only a few survivors living as slaves to the council’s wishes. They have found me, and they’re coming here with a huge fleet that the Franklin cannot hope to defeat,” Slater said, letting his words sink in.
“We heard about what you are and what this council is from Captain Guzman and the others, but do they pose a threat to all of humanity? We have our hands full with the various races attacking us, but there has been little indication that they are controlled by a single organization. I have to ask, if you sacrificed yourself, would the rest of us be allowed to return home?” Captain Peirce asked. It was a valid—and disturbing—question.
“If their past actions are any indicator, no. I would gladly sacrifice myself if it meant humanity would be safe, but that’s not the case. The very existence of a race that can resist their influence is a threat to them, one they can’t ignore. We have some time before the fleet arrives: time to upgrade the Franklin and prepare some other surprises. I’m beginning to form a plan that will ensure humanity has an edge in this war of extinction and will, hopefully, see you all home safely. Your cooperation will be needed if we’re going to survive the coming onslaught,” Slater said.
“I think I speak for the other captains when I say that as long as your actions don’t endanger our crews needlessly, I’m willing to follow your orders. The situation is unusual, to say the least, but the documentation that the others have provided leads me to believe you are telling the truth, Commodore Slater. Let us know what we can do to help get us all home,” Captain Falkoff replied. The others nodded in agreement, though Slater was certain they hadn’t bought in completely.
“For now, just get your people rested and healthy. There isn’t room on the Franklin for everyone, so I’ll have to house you here on the station until other accommodations can be arranged. Once you are all fit for duty, I’ll have assignments for everyone. There’ll be a lot of work ahead of us, so rest up while you can,” Slater ordered.
