Valyien Boxed Set 1

by James David Victor

  “Who told you to remove one of the warp cores!?” Farlow said, feeling faintly astounded by the man’s arrogance.

  “Special Protocol Three-One-Four. Check your orders, Captain,” Merik said tersely, without even a glimmer of the respect that he was supposed to give his commanding officer.

  “You will halt what you are doing until I do!” he snapped, and this time, the specialist did in fact stop, but only to lean over the device and look annoyed at the interruption.

  Captain Farlow hit the buttons on his wrist computer, cycling through the mission directives that he had been given. There wasn’t a lot, to be honest. He had been dispatched with the amazingly vague sentiment of ‘search and gather intelligence,’ which he knew could mean anything from collecting live samples and prisoners to just returning with data scans. It was a go-slow operation. He gritted his teeth. He had known that from the start. The sort of vague mission parameters that meant that no matter what he achieved, his superiors—in this case, Senior Tomas himself—could find an excuse to further punish him.

  But now, right at the end of his mission directives, there was an ‘upgraded’ set of rules that had been activated. But by what?

  “This mission has broken, Captain.” The Specialist seemed to read his mind. “And that means my confidential protocols have been activated. Three-One-Four: Use all measures to destroy the target, which is what I am doing.”

  “How are we going to jump out of here?” Reus the pilot said, his face pale with worry. The captain didn’t blame him for being worried, as there was a lot to be worried about. Their ship was just slightly better than crippled, and that meant that they had very limited options of how to get out of this mess. Outside the cockpit windows, he could see the slowly shifting walls of the vast trash containers on all sides. They were deep in the heart of this refuse-belt, and so far, they hadn’t encountered any more malicious hacking attempts by the strange machine that hovered above Sebopol.

  “We can still jump on one core,” Farlow said dismissively to the pilot. He had no time for weak men. “Which is something that I presume the specialist here knows already, which is why he only dismantled one?”

  Merik gave a tight smile that did not appear friendly at all and turned back to his work.

  Yes, they would still be able to jump, the captain knew, but it would be far more dangerous. They wouldn’t be able to travel very far, and their engine would take a considerably longer time to cycle up and recover afterwards. If they were attacked by any bandit or mercenary—or Alpha itself—they would just be sitting ducks.

  But Farlow also had to weigh that possibility against the devastating power that a properly primed warp core could do. Warp cores were based on Valyien technology, a synthesis of exotic elements and equations that not even the brightest minds fully understood. From what little the captain did know, it was that they ripped holes through the fabric of time and space. Relying on the sub-quantum field, they managed to create gravitational wells that were so tight and focused that they warped and charged subatomic space and bent it to their will.

  A bomb made out of a warp core would release that power to create a cascade effect. It could destroy entire space stations or take out a war cruiser.

  But would it be powerful enough to take out that machine-god that they had seen on the drone’s surveillance cameras? Farlow didn’t know. No one knew. That thing was big, after all. As large as one of Armcore war cruisers already? And it had appeared to be growing moment by moment.

  The clipper-scout shook as its erratic systems struggled to regain control from the damage done by the hacked signal that Alpha had sent. Farlow, Gunner Lupik, Pilot Reus, and Specialist Merik clutched the tables, chairs, and walls for the nearest supports.

  “We can’t trust a drone to carry it,” Farlow stated. They had all seen the way that the machine had taken over their previous drones just by assaulting them with code.

  “And we also cannot fly this ship to deliver it,” the specialist said with a nod. The same threat from Alpha had almost disabled their entire ship, when the Alpha virus had piggybacked onto the drone that had returned to the ship. “We cannot trust any machine to do this.” The specialist finished his work with a tiny handheld welder and stepped back, a look of pride on his face.

  “It has to be one of us,” Reus said with even more worry. “Someone has to go out there in an encounter suit and try to get their hands on that thing.” Farlow saw the realization, and then the new fear crossed his face as the man quickly added, “But I’m the pilot. You need me to get us out of here.”

  “I’ve been trained on how to fly,” the specialist pointed out cruelly.

  Of all the people that I want to send out there against the thing, then it would be Specialist Merik, Farlow thought cynically.

  “I’ll do it.” Gunner Lupik said gravely, looking at the captain with her hazel-grey eyes. “Reus is the pilot. You’re the captain. Merik here is…” She frowned. “Whatever it is he is.” She shrugged. “I’m the gunner, and that thing is a weapon. Unless we’re going to engage the thing in direct combat, then I am pretty superfluous here. Plus, I’ve had space operations training.”

  “We’ve all had that training, Soldier,” Farlow hissed back. Not her. Not the only one here that I like.

  “Make your choice, Captain.” Merik smiled coldly. Farlow wasn’t even sure if he could trust that man out there with a powerful bomb and secret orders.

  “I’m the logical choice, Captain. I don’t mind. This is for Armcore. These are orders.” Her eyes flickered for a moment with doubt. “No matter where they come from.”

  “Thank you, Lupik, but no. I need you here as a cool head. And there is a long journey back to Prime, which may require your skills on the gun ports. I will do it. I am the officer in charge,” Farlow said gruffly. It was the only choice that the man could make. It was so natural to state the words that it wasn’t a choice at all, really. Back before he had been demoted, and even when he had been a four-star general, Farlow had never gotten used to asking his men to do things that he wouldn’t do himself. It was one of the things that separated the old guard of the Armcore military from the younger snakes. Like the Specialist Merik here, he thought.

  “But, Captain, it’ll be a suicide mission!” Lupik said.

  Probably. He thought about floating out there alone with just the primed warp core in his hands and the thrum of his suit’s directional rockets. Whatever Alpha was building, it was so vast that it could squash him like a bug. Would he even have enough energy in his suit to get out of the radius of the bomb blast?

  But this is what I signed up for. His hands moved unconsciously to the weathered Armcore badge on his suit. Even if he was taking orders from unwise leaders like Tomas, he was still an Armcore man. He would do this for his crew, no matter what they thought of him. That was what a real leader did.

  “Give me the device, Specialist.” Farlow started to take off all his weapons from the suit. Make it lighter, faster. His training started to kick in.

  “You are a brave man, Captain,” Specialist Merik said as he handed Farlow the heavy device, but he said it in such a way that Farlow didn’t know if it was a compliment or an insult.

  “Hmph,” Farlow grunted. He attached the core to the front carry on his chest as Merik pushed the small transmitter into his hands as well. It was a simple device. Just press ‘send’ and then the thing would blow.

  “Here.” Lupik loaded up two extra energy cells onto his utility belt. It still might not be enough to fly all the way out there and back, but it was all that they had.

  “Reus, bring up the coordinates there.” Farlow checked the distance he would have to travel, made a brief mental calculation.

  “Lupik? I place you in acting command,” Farlow started to say.

  “Actually, sir, you can’t do that. A specialist outranks a gunner,” Merik pointed out. “As soon as you leave this ship, I will be in acting command until we deliver the ship to the nearest Armcore
unit.”

  It was almost enough to make Farlow reconsider his actions. Could he trust Merik in charge of these two? Of course not, but then again, he didn’t think that Merik would throw his own life away along with the rest. But Farlow still bared his teeth at the man, earning a disapproving sneer in return.

  “Then here are my orders, Specialist. You are to wait until I have reached the target location, and then you are to begin cycling the singular warp core that we have. I will try to return before you jump, but if anything happens to me, or I am gone longer than eight minutes, then you are to full-burn out of this belt and initiate warp travel as soon as you are clear, agreed?”

  “We can’t leave you here, Captain,” Lupik said.

  “Those are the man’s orders, Gunner,” Merik said sternly. “The captain is only ensuring that the most people survive, after all, aren’t you?”

  Farlow didn’t answer the man but nodded at Reus and Lupik and moved to the hatchway. “Prepare decompression chamber!” He barked the traditional cry and stepped into the small round room, closing the seal behind him.

  It was white and grey in there…and quiet. On the far side was the petal-porthole with three red lights over it. He prepared himself by the jump pad and tensed as the red lights flashed once, then one turned green, the second turned green, and then the third.

  The doors opened with a hiss of escaping gases, and the captain, who had once been a general, shot out of the clipper-scout like a cannonball.

  He was traveling too fast. The brass-colored wall of the nearest trash container was approaching too quickly. It had been a long time since he’d had to do emergency combat movements in an encounter suit, but he knew what to do. He had done it plenty of times before. Pushing one arm out to change his rotation, his feet swung out below him, and he fired the small propulsion rockets attached to his ankles. He turned his rocket-like propulsion into an arc that swept him up the container wall, before grazing it with a shoulder and tumbling up it.

  “Urk!” he gasped, not out of pain because the large suit had absorbed all the shocks, but from the sudden dizzying change of perspective. His acceleration was slowed, his suit was undamaged, and he managed to grab onto an external bulkhead to stop himself.

  Phew. Swinging around, he saw his vulture-like ship far below him, listing to one side as it hung between two walls of containers. Small sensor lights glittered under its belly and in its nosecone. He wondered if they would make it out of there alive.

  Because I probably won’t, he thought, raising one hand to tap at his collar and activate the internal tracking computer. A green vector arrow appeared on the inside of his visor, marking the way over the top of the container to the next. That way led to his target. He bunched his knees and kicked, then activated the rockets to give his flight speed. The container flashed underneath him, and he was surrounded by the familiar vision he had seen through the surveillance drone’s cameras. Monolithic metal containers on all sides as large as buildings, containing acres of humanity’s trash. It was clear why Alpha had chosen this site in the end, the captain saw. It was like a sweetshop of components.

  Past the metal-scape of the first container, and through a gulf in the belt and curving down the thin corridor between two more. It was a labyrinth in here, and the captain knew that without his own tracking computer, he might never have been able to remember all the twists and turns to his destination.

  He checked his wrist console. How much time had elapsed? Two and a half minutes. That meant that he had five and a half left to get there, prime the device, and get back. Or another two out, and about four minutes to get back. I’m going too slow! He increased the burn on his suit’s propulsion systems, flashing past the steel walls like a shooting star.

  He felt a moment of apprehension as a shape filled his peripheral vision, and Farlow managed to turn in mid-flight as one of his own X3 drones flashed past, narrowly missing him.

  What the… He kept on barreling forward as he saw it turn in its flight and come back around for another attack run. The thing had no armaments, thankfully, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t crush him against one of these containers. It was one of two hacked spy drones he had sent out. Alpha must have put them on guard for just such an action as this.

  The drone’s rear rockets blossomed as it shot toward him, growing larger and larger by the second. Farlow managed to roll to one side once more, but this time, the suit’s sensors along his collar flashed a warning amber as they were washed with the propulsion burn.

  Farlow was spinning, almost out of control, until he steadied himself against one of the nearest container walls. Where did it go? The hacked drone had swept around in a wide arc and was returning for another run. He would have to time this perfectly—

  The thing was drawing closer, closer—

  Now! Farlow fired his rockets and swept up just in time. The drone smashed into the container below him. There was a blossom of orange light and a flash as the delicate interior components burst into the vacuum of space. Farlow was hurled up, head over heels, spinning fast with the opposite container walls rolling around and around. How many G’s am I pulling? he managed to think as he felt his head throb with pressure.

  WHAM! He hit another container flat on his back, and this time, he really did feel the pain. His vision went black for a moment, and then he was blinking. He saw that there were droplets of blood along the inside of his visor. He must have hit his head against his own helmet when he was thrown against the metal. While such a minor injury meant nothing to the man, the captain knew that inside a suit it could mean terrible things indeed. Blood could get into his eyes, obscuring his vision, or it could work its way down into the rubber seals.

  His hands moved to his wrist console—noticing as he did so that the suit’s damage lights on his own collar were now flashing an alert red. 3.5 minutes. That meant thirty seconds to get there.

  But hopefully, I won’t run into any more drones on the way out, he thought. He might have saved himself an extra thirty seconds if he was lucky.

  The only problem being, there was nothing about the last few days that indicated that Captain Farlow was on a lucky streak.

  Not wasting any more time, Farlow flew through the last avenues of the container field, turning his head this way and that to shake the blood that pooled on his cheek as well as search for any more signs of interceptors. Nothing. He didn’t know whether he should be glad or feel even more wary of that. This Alpha is smart, he told himself in understatement. Much smarter than he was. Wouldn’t it have already planned for him to do this?

  But using one of our own warp cores to try and blow the thing up? The captain would never have thought of that. In a weird way, Merik’s protocol was almost a good idea, in the sense that it was the last thing that any sane captain or pilot would do—seriously cripple their own ship in an attempt to stop the enemy.

  But there was no turning back now. The captain saw a gap in the container belt around Sebopol up ahead. It was dark at first, dark compared to the container field, but then his eyes adjusted, and he saw the drifts of mauve and deep crimson gases, like there was a nebula surrounding the planet itself.

  “Think, man!” he barked at himself, pausing for a moment even though the seconds were ticking away. He fired his propulsion rockets, then turned as he did so to skim the surface of the shell. “I’ll try to hide my signal against this metal,” he whispered to himself, carefully jumping and gliding along the last of the floating trash containers as he looked down at his target.

  “Dear gods…”

  There it was. The thing. His brain wanted to call it Alpha, but he also knew that he had no way of figuring out if what he was seeing was actually the hybrid intelligence itself, or whether it was a tool or a weapon.

  “What in the starry heavens is it building?” he murmured.

  The device looked bigger than it had just a scant few hours ago on the drone’s surveillance cameras. It now appeared to be a vast humpback of chitinous shell,
plates of blue and verdigris metal alloys, the likes of which Farlow had never seen. But extending from it were two prongs of metal like a tuning fork. These were as yet un-skinned, and the captain could see different globules and vaguely ox-like units, all bolted and connected on a central frame support of shining silver metal. Flurries of smaller, purpose-built drones washed up and down these exposed arms, moving between the supports and attaching themselves like a hungry swarm to various parts of the craft.

  It is a craft, the captain thought. Almost as large as an Armcore war cruiser. But he knew that it might indeed get bigger still. Crackles of static electricity and washes of light played over its form as strange manufacturing processes were used. This was like nothing the captain had ever seen, or even heard of. He knew instantly that in the Coalition, there would be scores of scientists and engineers who would devour each other to get a look at the processes happening here.

  So this is what a ship looks like, being designed and made by an artificial intelligence, he thought, turning towards a part of the shell that seemed the least busy and firing his rockets.

  How much time? Ten seconds to get there. He wasn’t going to make it, he thought. Unless he added the time that he had taken out to deal with the hacked drone. That had been, what, thirty seconds?

  Forty seconds. He burned his propulsion rockets for a few seconds more, before he clicked them off and just let his frictionless acceleration carry him forward. He couldn’t afford for his rocket signal to be detected and for him to be waylaid on his mission to deliver this deadly gift.

  Looking at the primed warp core strapped his chest, he thought that it looked like a tiny, miniscule thing compared to the behemoth in front of him. Can one little warp core take out something as big as an Armcore war cruiser? He thought it might, though. He hoped that it might.

  At least it would slow the thing down. And besides which, this thing had tried to disable his ship. It had hacked his drones, almost crippled his ship, endangered his crew, and then had attacked him with his own drone! There was an unwritten adage that he lived by, a famous maxim that Armcore shared with its recruits.