by B. V. Larson
“Almost the same, sir. These units are a little more sophisticated. They can talk and interact almost like humans.”
I considered that statement. Not until that moment had I recalled what Director Vogel had said on Phobos: that the variants didn’t speak. Could it be that only his construction units lacked that capacity? Did the more humanoid types use speech? I was certain now that they did. I’d heard them talk, plainly, even as they’d murdered Admiral Halsey.
Reaching over her shoulder, I tapped on the “more information” icon. The documents for the transfer of those hideous things were immediately displayed. Running my finger down vertically, I caused the screen to jump to the last page.
“Is something wrong, Captain?” Yamada asked.
Before answering, I read the name at the bottom of the assignment order. None other than Admiral Perez had signed off on the documents. The man was either a dupe or an enemy agent. The effect either way was the same for now.
“I’m just curious,” I told Yamada, which was a half-truth. “I was unaware we were carrying any of these… variants. How many are there, when did they come aboard, and why wasn’t I informed?”
“There are three, sir. They came aboard during your shore leave period on Earth. I didn’t think to discuss it as Victory only appeared this morning. Really, I thought you must have known. Very strange that CENTCOM would send these units without informing the captain.”
“Yes… strange indeed,” I said.
Internally, my guts were knotting themselves up. We had three of these monstrosities aboard Defiant? As I recalled, precisely that number had encircled Halsey before they butchered him.
Had Halsey known they were on my ship? Had he suspected?
It suddenly made more sense why he’d requested a private channel. If he’d broadcast the warning in the clear, perhaps the variants on Defiant would have overheard and stepped up their plans.
I stared at Yamada’s screens while she frowned up at me in confusion. After several long seconds, I came to a fateful decision.
“First Officer Durris,” I said loudly. “Has Victory done anything interesting out there?”
“She has, Captain. She’s adjusted her course slightly. She was heading directly for Earth—but now it looks like she’s headed here to Luna.”
Unsurprised, I nodded. They were coming to meet my ship, to kill the man who’d been tipped off.
“I see. That’s not a terribly dramatic change. Please take command chair again. I’m going below to investigate some new items of interest.”
“New items?” he asked. “Oh, you must mean the variants. They’re freaky! Last night I took a peek in the hold myself. They move so fast.”
With an effort, I managed to repress an outburst. Had everyone aboard gawked at these possibly deadly constructs without bothering to inform their captain?
Regaining my composure, I reminded myself they’d all naturally assumed I knew about the variants. After all, the creatures possessed every qualifying document conceivable. The transfer had been legitimate and had gone unchallenged. That was one of the problems with any bureaucratic organization. They tended to follow the rulebook and ask too few questions.
As I left the deck, I found Yamada following me discreetly.
“Yes, Lieutenant Commander?” I asked in a clipped tone.
“Captain, I made some progress on that special project you assigned to me.”
After blinking twice, I remembered what she was talking about. “My implant malfunction?”
“Yes. Here, use this.”
She handed me a slip of what appeared to be ordinary plastic. “This must make contact around the base of the implant before it’s attached to your spinal cord. It will require a bit of improvising, but it should mimic the sanitized covering film. There’s no way around the procedure. You’ll still need a tech for the insertion.”
I looked at it dubiously. It appeared to be nothing more than a clear, plastic candy wrapper. Possibly, it was even less substantial.
“Won’t the technicians remove it before—”
“Yes,” she said, “they will, but only when they’re ready to root the implant. At that point, the code in this wrapper will have infected it with my handiwork.”
“Ah,” I said, “that’s what this is. A vector for the transmission of a virus.”
“Right. I can’t get access to implants from my terminal. I can only reprogram them through contact. The virus was very easy to write, but gaining access to the implant before the technicians insert it without anyone noticing? That’s the tricky part.”
Impressed, I took the slip of plastic and put it in my pocket. I thanked her and headed down to the main hold.
Before I reached the hold to see the variants in action, I was waylaid again.
“Captain?” asked Marine Lieutenant Morris.
I turned to face him. He was standing in front of two other marines. All of them were wearing their sidearms.
That wasn’t unusual aboard Defiant when we were underway on a war footing, but I raised my eyebrow in any case.
“What is it, Lieutenant?” I asked sternly.
“I’m really sorry about this, Captain,” he said. “But we’ve been ordered by CENTCOM to escort you to medical.”
“And why is that?”
“Something tripped up one of the desk-jockeys down there, I’m sure that’s all it is. They’ve noted that you don’t have an active implant. Apparently, that’s against regulations.”
Nodding, I suddenly understood. “Right… it is, actually. No Star Guard officer can proceed into action without having been connected to the local net at least. It’s considered a dereliction of duty.”
“Right. That’s what CENTCOM said. Well, can we go fix this? Again, I really want to apologize.”
“There’s no need,” I told him. “In fact, I want you to do something for me as we comply with this order.”
“Anything sir, anything.”
“Order your full complement of marines to go on alert. Get them into separate, isolated locations distributed around the ship. Place one team at each location, fully armed.”
He stared at me in surprise.
“Has this got anything to do with Victory, sir? Or is there anything else I should know about?”
“Yes. We’re in danger. All of us. You’re not to tell that to anyone—nobody. Just quietly mobilize and disperse.”
Fully alert now, Morris was lifting his com set to his chin. I put my hand out and pushed his wrist back down.
“No,” I said quietly, making eye-contact with all three of them. “Do it quietly, pass the message only by word of mouth. No implants. No intercoms.”
“You mean walk around the ship and tell every marine in person?” he asked.
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
He looked at me as if I was crazy for a second, but then he nodded.
“Sir,” he said in a husky whisper. “If we’re in trouble, we can postpone this thing with the implant. I’ll report it was done. I owe you that.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I want it done. They must know their will has been imposed upon me.”
“Who are you talking about, sir?”
“No one,” I said thoughtfully. “No one you’ve ever heard of, anyway.”
We headed down to medical then. Morris was too agitated and concerned to watch me undergo the implantation. He left his marines to witness the event and moved off to walk the passages alone.
One at a time, I knew, he was pulling his marines aside and giving them private orders.
-12-
The implantation process was painful and messy, but I managed to briefly handle the item in question before they inserted it.
That was the hardest task of my very long day. I’d never been good at sleight-of-hand. In fact, I could not recall ever having attempted such a thing before.
“What are you doing, Captain?” a tech asked me.
“I’ve never held one of
these things in my hand, nurse,” I said, thoughtfully. “Isn’t that strange? To spend my whole life with one rooted in the back of my—”
“If you don’t mind, Captain,” she said, taking the implant from me.
She examined it closely, frowning with intensity. She didn’t like what she saw.
“This hygienic wrapper has been damaged,” she complained. “It’s curled up in several places. We’ll have to sterilize it.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just put it in.”
“I’m sorry sir,” she said, shaking her head. “It probably isn’t sanitary now. You don’t want an infection, do you?”
“Nurse,” I said sternly. “I’m doing this to satisfy the bureaucrats down on Earth. Our entire fleet has apparently been destroyed, save for this vessel and one other. I don’t have time to fool around. Get on with it, and give me a shot of antibiotics if it makes you feel better.”
“All right, all right,” she said, chastened and sullen. “No need to get huffy. You must realize that there have been nasty cases of meningitis from accidents like this.”
“Then give me a big antibiotic booster if it pleases you.”
She sniffed, but she did it. The implant wriggled into place, with a cold slippery feeling. When it bit down and connected with my spinal cord, I felt an electric shock run through me. I gritted my teeth and hissed.
“At least you didn’t damage it,” she said. “Looks like a good bite. Now for the antibiotic.”
She got out what had to be the largest needle on the ship. She held it aloft, filling it with magenta fluid. I suspected she wanted to make sure I had time to admire it before she plunged it into my neck.
The automated bulb on the end of the syringe pumped rhythmically, and I felt the fluid injecting. My veins ran cool, then warmed again as the drug was delivered.
“Is there anything else?” she asked innocently after yanking the needle from my throbbing neck.
“No,” I rasped out. “I should think you’ve done quite enough.”
She put her fists on her hips and frowned as I climbed painfully off the gurney and left her office. The marines, faces twisted up at what they’d witnessed, followed in my wake.
“Go find Morris,” I told them. “No transmissions—don’t forget.”
They trotted away, and I leaned against the wall of the passage for a moment to catch my breath and steady my stomach. The implant reinsertion procedure had left me feeling off-balance.
When I had my wits and equilibrium back, I attempted to interface with the unit.
There was a fuzzy moment. I was informed via projected text printing on my retina that the implant was updating…
Could that be Yamada’s virus altering the software? In retrospect, my scheme now seemed somewhat hastily planned and ill-advised. It wasn’t a crime to hack your implant, as far as I knew, but I felt sure the Chairman and his Council, should they learn of it, would take a disapproving view.
Straightening my spine, I decided I didn’t care what they thought. If at some point they decided someone I knew was an embarrassment, I would still be able to remember that individual. They would never become an “unperson” to me. That was worth a great deal of personal risk.
Eventually, the implant began functioning normally. I didn’t want to overuse it just yet, but I tried to access the ship’s central data core. The first thing I did was turn off the auto-forwarding option on the vid file I’d captured that showed Halsey’s execution. I didn’t want CENTCOM to know I was aware of his fate. Not yet.
New information from the data core began to flash up visually. To prevent impairment, it was designed to only display text and vid data on one retina. When you got used to the effect, you learned to shut out input from one eye or the other, shifting your focus entirely onto the one that you wished to deal with at that moment.
The ship was on course, curving and accelerating as she swung around Luna. We were preparing to move toward Victory and intercept her.
This plan evidently was obvious to those at CENTCOM, and it didn’t meet with approval at the highest levels.
A channel request blinked. It was from Admiral Perez. I accepted it as I had no choice.
“At least you have your implant online again,” he said, glaring at me from under his sparse white curls. “I see you’re walking. Come to my office when you stop. You have five minutes to do so.”
By “come to my office” he meant I should use my implant to visit his location.
He closed the channel before I could ask what this was about. I didn’t have to guess. He knew I was moving to engage Victory. The question was: why did he want our meeting to be conducted in private? Did he already know what had happened to Halsey?
Deciding I’d best comply and step carefully, I moved to my office and sat down. A quick look at the data from the ship indicated we wouldn’t leave Luna’s orbit for another ten minutes. I had time.
Using the implant, I reached out to connect to Perez. At this distance, there was a significant propagation delay of a few seconds, but it wasn’t too bad.
The net hummed on hold, but at last Perez appeared. He was in his office as well. No one else was present.
The connection placed me on a low couch in front of his desk. From my perspective, he seemed to tower over me. I didn’t know if that was purposeful, accidental, or some kind of glitch in the visual-placement layer of the software.
“Sparhawk? Can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, Admiral.”
“I want to know what you’re up to out there. You were ordered to move to Luna and take up a patrol position. Reports have you preparing to leave orbit.”
“I’m exercising my prerogative under Admiral Halsey’s orders, sir.”
He stared at me in alarm for a moment. “You’ve been in contact with Admiral Halsey?”
“I didn’t say that, sir,” I pointed out. “I’m talking about my orders as per May 28th—”
“I don’t care about that!” he shouted suddenly. “You’re disobeying my orders. I may just have to relieve you of duty, replacing you with…” Here, he consulted a document. “First Officer Durris. He’ll soon have full command of Defiant.”
Slowly, I shook my head. “I’m sorry sir,” I said, “but you’re mistaken. Admiral Halsey is now in-system. He out ranks you—I’m sure I don’t have to point that out. I’m following my standing orders from him. If you want to get them changed, I suggest you either get the Joint Chiefs to override Halsey, or talk to Halsey yourself and get him to inform me.”
He stared at me venomously. At that point I suspected he knew what had happened to Halsey—but I couldn’t be sure.
If he did know the truth, he knew he couldn’t get Halsey to countermand anything he’d written previously because he was stone dead.
With an effort of will, I kept my face and tone neutral. I didn’t want him to think this was anything more than an argument about the chain of command.
“You always were a cocky one, Sparhawk,” he said at last. “Very well, I’ll get the Joint Chiefs to alter your orders one way or the other.”
The connection closed with disconcerting suddenness. My world went black for a moment until my real surroundings took precedence and settled in around me.
He’d given me much to think about, but I didn’t have time to ponder it all. I had my own pressing problems.
I almost made a mistake then. I almost contacted Marine Commander Morris via my implant. It was a reflex that was hard to avoid.
Instead, I stepped out into the passages of the ship and marched off in search of him. With any luck, I’d find him in the vicinity of the engineering section on the lower decks. The troop module and the primary armory were located down there.
The main cargo hold and our odd new friends known as variants were also on that same deck. That should make this entire affair come to a conclusion soon after it began if events went according to my plans.
-13-
Morris and his troops
met me outside the cargo hold.
“It’s them, isn’t it?” he asked. “Those freaks inside? I knew they’d be trouble the second they came aboard.”
Nodding, I didn’t try to deny it. I hadn’t been specific about the nature of the threat previously because I didn’t want him to spread the word about the details. It seemed likely these creatures would find out if we did.
He tested the swivel-cannon on his body-shell and seemed satisfied.
“We’re good to go, Captain,” he said.
I stepped to the hold and reached out a hand to open the hatch. This made Morris flinch as he’d never liked to see me put myself into danger.
“My plan isn’t to go in guns blazing,” I told the marines who leaned closer around me. “Everyone, back up. Stay here until I give you a signal. I want to see if they’re in a talking mood first.”
“They don’t talk,” Morris said. “At least… that’s what I heard.”
“We’ll soon learn the truth.”
I touched the hatch, releasing the lock. It opened and squealed, grinding metal against metal. The hatch was powered and swung open fully. Inside, it was brightly lit and full of equipment.
There was no immediate sign of the variants, but I could hear them. They were generating a sound that reminded me of beating wings heard in close proximity.
Frowning, I stepped cautiously into the hold and looked this way and that. After another ten steps in, Morris hissed behind me.
“Captain?”
I glanced back toward the open hatch. Morris and his men were nothing if not disciplined. They were clustered at the hatchway where they’d been ordered to remain.
Signaling them to enter, I stepped farther into the hold. The peculiar fluttering sounds were irregular now, and they grew louder.
It turned out these odd noises were coming from the embodiment of inhuman efficiency. I came around a six meter tall rack and found them there, all three of the monstrosities, working at a frenetic pace.
It’s hard to describe what variants are like close-up to anyone who hasn’t met them personally. They move with amazing precision and speed. Their arms—each had at least six of them—were almost like the blades of a helicopter. They flashed and thrummed in the air, taking items from one another and the shelves around them with blurring speed.
