* * * *
The ship was almost loaded and ready to go when they got the order off Jackson to evacuate. The only thing left was the data core. He'd wanted it powered up to the last possible moment for some critical probability computations. The results had made interesting reading and caused them to modify their exit strategy from the planet.
Their craft, which had been sitting below the surface of the snow and ice in a concealed hangar, had been unaffected by the zombie virus. It had been a simple matter to detect and quarantine it, when it attempted to infiltrate their systems a couple of years ago. The next stage had been to modify the code base as instructed by Jackson. To refine and enhance its control mechanisms and give it evolutionary characteristics to see what it was truly capable of. By the fifth generation it had developed the ability to dynamically select vulnerable systems to facilitated targeted attacks. So if instructed to disable a craft it could choose the weakest point of entry and determine the best way to achieve its goal. Zeroing in on and shutting-down the most vulnerable systems be they life support, power, weapons, sensors, navigation and so on. By the tenth generation it had shown evidence of primitive AI. The ability to absorb anti-virus programs and modify its own lines of attack to overcome them. By the fifteenth generation they had taken Iverson's relatively primitive code and turned it into a fully-fledged stealth virus. A sophisticated and intelligent piece of malware designed to silently infiltrated critical systems. One that absorbed and learned how nullify virus hunting software while hiding itself within it. Dynamically modifying its targets and key objectives on the fly to achieve its pre-programmed mission parameters and goals. There was of course a back door into all this to keep it under control. A primary control key written into its code base DNA that would enable the holder to deactivate and purge it from infected systems at the push of a button. All that remained was to test it in the field.
They'd just finished loading up the data core and had begun opening the hangar doors, revealing a leaden sky heavy with snow above them, when Oscar launched his attack. They came skidding in over the ice on mag-skis. Their dynamic camouflage keeping them hidden till the last moment, cutting through the outer perimeter and taking them completely by surprise. Well at least they took the troopers Jasper had assigned to assist in the clear-up of the site by surprise. The simulations Jackson had instructed his team to run had indicated an eighty-five percent probability of an attack and the best line of defence. A full field test for the Z15E variant of the virus as they now called with a scientific lack of imagination. As the hangar doors finished rolling back he flicked a switch and transmitted Z15E to the battlefield above. Its instruction set was simple kill all combatants till deactivated. It infected the Malstrom troopers first. Attacking the environmental controls of their suits randomly cooking or freezing them to death. Then it infiltrated the weapons systems and began overloading them. Finally it locked on to the obscure frequencies the Brethren used as they looked on in disbelief as Malstrom's forces self-destructed. It took over their mag-ski's. Turning them into high speed projectiles that mowed down anyone in their path, before overloading their power cells and incinerating anyone unfortunate enough to be near-by.
Jackson's assistant smiled with satisfaction at the carnage he had unleashed on the blood-stained snow and ice around him as they rose up out of the hangar. He was just about to hit the afterburners and accelerate away out of the atmosphere when there was a large explosion as a missile took out the main engine behind him. As he fought to regain control of the stricken craft the last though that raced through his mind, before diving nose first into the ground, was that the virus had malfunctioned. Ploughing a hundred meter plus furrow into the snow and ice, tossing boulders aside as it went, they came to rest nose first at a thirty-five degree angle. The burning remains of the shattered engine pointing at the sky.
A small figure emerged from behind a ridge and threw an ancient, single use, chemical rocket launcher aside. She smiled with satisfaction as she pulled out a small pair of optical binoculars from the thick layers of her fabric thermal suit. It was more restrictive of her movements than a modern envirosuit, but her equipment gave her one critical advantage there was nothing for the virus to infect. She scanned the terrain between her and the wreck for signs of movement and finding none stowed her binoculars, climbing into the cab of the old liquid fuelled snow tractor. They'd been popular when the planet was first colonised and lacked a modern energy infrastructure, as they could run cheaply and easily on crudely refined biofuels. She hit the starter and it spluttered into life. Rumbling down the slope on its caterpillar tracks it followed the long jagged furrow to the remains of Jackson’s teams shuttle.
Its crumpled nose was buried in the snow and ice. Although the cockpit appeared intact, it was impossible to see inside, as it's window was below the snow line. She scampered up on to the top of the stricken craft and activated the release charges on the emergency hatch that sat just behind the cockpit and jumped clear. A few seconds later they detonated and blew the cover off. A badly damaged mag-ski with most of its engine housing missing, exposing the workings underneath, sparked into life and accelerated towards where the ejected hatch lay. Wisps of smoke gently rising from what was left of the release charges. She pulled out an antique pistol that fired primitive lead projectiles from her holster. Cocking the trigger as she dropped onto one knee and waited for it to come into optimal range before firing. Lead projectiles ripped through the exposed engine splitting open the fuel cells and shredding the main drive as it erupted into a ball of flames.
Without waiting to see what else the virus might throw at her she leap back onto the ship and dropped thorough the hatch, smashing her way into the cockpit. Jacksons assistant was slumped lifelessly in the pilot’s seat. She checked for a pulse and found none. It seemed he'd broken his neck on impact. Ignoring his co-pilot, who was unconscious, she deactivated the virus and pulled the virus control key from the ships computer, before activating the rear cargo ramp. The cargo bay controls refused to respond. She climbed back up through the hatch and clambered around the smouldering remains of the engine to drop the cargo ramp with a couple of small demolition charges. It fell into the furrow with a heavy thud as she swung herself into the hold gun at the ready. Most of the cargo had broken free smashing into the seats pinning and crushing what was left of Jackson's research team against the bulkhead that separated them from the cabin. The data core itself was encased in an oblong framework of metal that kept its precious crystalline cargo suspended in a dampened anti-gravity field. So although it had been thrown around the hold it was undamaged and it was a simply a matter of winching it out of the wreck onto the tractor.
The load safely secured she clambered back into the cockpit and set the ships auto-destruct sequence, pistol whipping the co-pilot to ensure he didn't regain consciousness and deactivate it. She adjusted the tractors rear mirror so she could keep watch as it rumbled down the furrow towards the open hangar doors of the abandoned Angel-1 research facility. The ground vibrated underneath the tractor as she saw a thick plume of smoke and flames rise up behind her. She parked beside the open hangar, grabbed a backpack full of demolition charges and repelled into the opening below. Moving swiftly through the complex, she rigged the charges on strategic load bearing points, before climbing back up to the snow tractor. Grinding through the gears she moved away from the abandoned facility as quickly as could. Once she was a safe distance away she detonated the charges remotely and watched the facility collapse in on itself leaving a crater full of mangled metal and rubble.
There was just one more piece of unfinished business left to attend to.
Picking her way through the blood stained snow and ice she inspected the bodies of the fallen Brethren until she found the man she was looking for. Oscar was lying next to the mangled remains of a mag-ski, his right leg was broken in several places and twisted at an unnatural angle. He was alive, but barely, his breathing shallow and rapid. She scanned him and could see
that he had multiple internal injuries and hemorrhaging. She knelt over him, pulled off his helmet, and injected a stim into his neck. His eyes flickered open regaining consciousness as she stood up and cocked her revolver.
“You have been judged and found wanting.”
She blew softly across the muzzle of her gun before slipping it back into her holster and transmitting confirmation that her mission was complete.
Rebels Page 21
