Gentlemen, your ship, Omega stated plainly and walked toward the far side. With a low grinding, the wall shifted aside and slid down into the floor below them. The thin seams that crisscrossed the surface danced from one end to the other while it quickly plunged out of the way.
From the far side, the first thing that stood out was the thousands of protrusions resembling spindly docks and loading platforms expounding from every surface and leading deep into the main chamber. There, far in the distance above their heads rested the Flagstaff, held aloft on an unseen field, like a model mounted with fishing line to a child’s bedroom ceiling, still completely encompassed by the expansive steel gray station.
Looking up, it almost didn’t register to Grant; the sense of scale was gone and their home resembled nothing more than a toy. As his brain adjusted to accept the possibility their ship could be but a minute passenger in the alien station, he began to pick out the finer details. Dozens of tiny ribbon-like walkways and corridors traced their way around the Flagstaff’s surface, evidence of their hosts’ investigations. Again the question formed: What possible use could they be to a species so advanced?
Elsewhere in the room and similarly held in stasis were the rest of their ship’s armaments: The shuttles, fighters and servicing crafts were lined up and accounted for along the wisps of platforms and protrusions. Grant even caught a small glint of red against the dark backdrop, isolated far above in the upper corner. He hoped it would still be flightworthy.
Everything is as you left it, Omega began. All of your equipment has been inspected and cataloged. It has served us well in our brief study of your civilization.
“You studied us?” Kael asked, staring up at the antiquated titanium rocket that was now the last fiber connecting them to their previous lives.
Of course. It was in everyone’s best interests that we did so. We needed to be sure you were who we imagined. We needed to remove the possibility of failure during your medical procedures. A basic history of your species has also assisted. Omega looked away from the ship and turned back towards his guests. It was fortunate we did. It appears we have a common enemy.
The alien led them across the landing to another lift which whisked them straight up past multiple overlooks and walkways. Most were empty, but a few were populated by more of the creatures, alone or in small groups. The platform stopped when they were about level with the center of the Flagstaff’s body and where it took up over 90 degrees of their field of view.
We have some questions for you. Omega continued as a small section of the wall behind them evaporated, revealing a small side chamber.
The room was set up in a cross between a laboratory workspace and a museum. Alien equipment was staged on tables around the walls while several larger platforms were set in the center, covered by a thick layer of a glass-like substance resembling a fish tank.
Grant immediately recognized the items on the first table. The first was an Aquillian-based board and wiring harness from his fighter; his fingerprints were probably still all over it from the reinstall. Beside it were the two Aquillian hatchets recovered while on his first deployment. If they were thorough enough to find a board inside of the SR-X, he thought, nothing would have slipped them by.
These are from your last adversary, yes?
“Yes,” Grant answered and filled the team in on how he had acquired both.
As I expected. However, your Aquillians are not our major concern here today. Omega turned to his right, and the wall beside them vaporized, revealing another series of tables that were similarly filled.
He pointed to the first table containing two unmistakable objects, a massive metal saw blade covered with the dried blood of multiple victims and a small black box resting on a clear stand. A miniscule silver barb protruded from the container, halfway between being a bayonet and a dagger. Othello shifted uncomfortably on his feet as the others looked between him and the weapons.
“Those’re mine,” he confessed. “I recovered them after our battle on Earth.”
Grant continued to case the room. There were three black cases on another table while the walls were covered with printed pictures, obviously pulled from their various security feeds stored onboard. Some were from Extortion’s drives, showing executions of the workers, gunships landing on the roofs and some of their counteroffensive. Others were from the attacks on Mars, but the ones that caught his eye were several which contained footage of the carved black cubes he kept uncovering. He hoped Omega or his forces might know what purpose they served.
Elsewhere in the room was a piece of the Flagstaff’s decking, about two meters square and covered with more dried blood from their unfortunate captive. He recognized it as the panel from beneath the hydraulic ram.
You fought the abominations?
“Yes. There was another race we met in war, the Aquillians. We think the fight attracted them to our system,” Fox said. “They came out of nowhere and took out a colony on the next planet out in our home solar system. Soon after that they started hitting targets around Earth. Our units were deployed to respond, but we ended up losing communication early on and were left on our own.”
Yes, we reviewed your logs. I’m afraid the next assault will not be so easy. You were very fortunate.
“I don’t know about that,” Grant added. “They put up a hell of a fight, especially with most of our fleet still patrolling other systems. Can you define ‘fortunate’?”
Omega looked back at the soldier.
“What are those?” Scott asked, pointing to a table with three black metal cylinders.
Those are shields for one of the enemy’s more potent weapons.
Scott looked closer and could make out a clear panel on the side of each object. Inside were smaller metal probes, standing up straight within and resting around clear sleeves.
Your ship was acting erratically, yes? Losing power? Dropping out of quantum jumps?
“Yes,” Fox nodded.
Your ship had been hit by those devices. It was infected and was influenced by the enemy.
“I knew it,” Scott murmured, nearly silently while studying the metal devices.
We scoured every millimeter of your vessel. Those are far too dangerous to be in the open.
“What is this enemy?” Grant asked and stillness fell on the room.
Omega gestured to another door to the side. We should explain this in its entirety. He stated and walked through to the next room. With your witness to your ship and crew, I believe it is time.
The next room was a circular conference room, sans the table. More of the ribbon-like seats were placed in a row along the wall, which the group took as they filtered in. Omega waited on them in the center before appearing to take a deep breath.
What I am about to tell you has been passed down through thousands of generations, ever since my people pulled ourselves out of the void. Our creator has deemed us worthy to receive his guidance and thusly we have followed it.
The universe as you know it is a battlefield. We have been created, just like you, to combat a great evil in the world. Our designer breathed life into us to dispel the forces of darkness.
“You have your god’s calling to fight?” Othello asked with a quizzical look on his face.
Not ‘yours.’ Ours. The universe was only created one way. We share a common father, a common designer, a common fate.
The wheels spun in the miner’s mind, “How can you be sure we are not adversaries. We’ve done some terrible things to ourselves and others.”
Yes, haven’t we all. Murderers and thieves; the lot of us. But what principles have survived through antiquity? Love, faith, fellowship, honor, chivalry, these words have great meaning to you, do they not? When the whole of your civilization lives to cause pain to each other, destroy without regard and leave the world in darkness to please your master, I would believe it.
“We just committed mass genocide by driving a species to extinction in an ill-conceived exercise,” Grant added.
True, but where has that led you? To this room in my presence, Omega replied, adamantly answering his own question. We serve the same power, to be a light throughout the world.
“So why do you need us?”
Omega hung his head again and his voice lost a degree of its complexity, as if he was expressing shame for his thought. Because we nearly fell. Although we have a great creator, our success is far from guaranteed and we became prideful. Left to our devices as we began to explore the galaxy, we tore a path of wanton devastation across the stars. Where you eliminated a single alien threat, we conquered hundreds of civilizations, ravaged thousands of worlds, and enslaved countless more. We had forgotten our place and forgotten what we were meant to be.
So close to the wrath of the almighty we were when we were delivered a prophet who gave us the final chapter of our instruction. We were to immediately lay down our arms, turn from our ways and remember what we were created for. Those we destroyed, we were to restore. Those we enslaved, we were to set free. We founded many new worlds for our victims who, through our repentance and their benevolence became our allies. If we failed in this, we were to be cast to the fire. Only through our obedience would we find our salvation.
“And what of your great adversary?”
What of them, indeed, Omega continued. We met them on the battlefield long ago but were not strong enough to destroy them. They live still and their influence is strong. Our instruction still stood; that we would no longer take up arms, even to defend ourselves. Our enemy does not know this so we have kept them at bay this long, but the ruse will not work forever. An unrelenting show of force will only retain the wall of protection until our first engagement. This, I’m afraid, is where you come in. The alien stepped towards Grant, pointing two right hands at his face.
Our final instruction was that an alien vessel would appear in our sky. They would be the creation that would undo our trespasses. You soldiers, martyrs, crusaders, in this room, he continued and looked around at the team of humans, have within you the greatest strength of all your warriors and it stands on your shoulders to lead them, should you so choose.
Grant sat as still as a stone while he considered the words. “If we refuse?”
Then we shall part ways and accept our fates. It may take a hundred lifetimes, but your home shall be destroyed just as ours. We shall be hunted to extinction and eviscerated. Consider these words. Omega’s voice dropped out while he turned and exited the room followed by the Emissary. The humans, now alone for the first time, exchanged cautious glances.
“Are they coming back?” Scott whispered.
“I don’t know,” Othello stated. “They probably expect us to have some discussion about this.” The miner rubbed his temples. “One way or another, it’s quite a fascinating story.”
Fox looked back at his fellow commander. “It had to be you? You’re their perfect specimen?”
Grant’s reply was complete with a perplexed look across his face. “You’re welcome to it. I don’t want any shit like this.”
“Hey,” Major Kael stood up and paced to face the group. “They’re asking for our help. The least we can do is find out what they require.”
“They’d take us to gaddamn extinction!” Grant snapped and shot to his feet. “This has nothing for us!”
“If what he said is true, we might not have a choice,” Kael responded. “You know exactly what we left behind on Earth. If they can’t hail the fleet, they’re not going to hold out as it is.”
“Then we can return and fight to the last. We can defeat them if--”
“Bullshit! You know we’re on borrowed time as it is. It won’t be a hundred lifetimes; it won’t be twenty years at this rate!”
Grant held his breath, searching for a comeback but Fox broke in again.
“What was your little vision back on Mars?” he asked.
The commander seethed but relented. “I saw the siege of Earth and I was told to run.”
“And look where that got us!” Fox blasted. “Maybe it was for a reason. Maybe not, but we best do something. I’m not about to go to my grave knowing I let my ship turn and run while Earth was still in danger for no reason more than your little vision!”
Scott sat in silence, listening to the group of senior officers bicker about their course of action. At some level he assumed the big issues were always agreed upon in the military’s circles and were devoid of emotion and infighting. Seeing them sparring over the basics of their predicament was disconcerting. Through a nervous stutter and staring at the floor, he spoke up above their voices.
“The m-major’s right!” he began. “B-before we reach any conclusion, we need to find out what they’ll need, what they’ll let us do and how much danger we are actually in. If Earth’s in the balance, we should take whatever action we can to help. N-n-none of us could turn our backs on them.”
“Amen.” Othello nodded in the engineer’s direction. “Commander, at least find out what Omega needs us to do. If we can offer a measure of assistance maybe we can secure Earth at the same time.”
Grant’s eyes moved between the others and he saw the decision had been made. Relaxing his posture, the officer sighed. “Alright. Give me a few minutes to think this through,” he requested and left through the same door through which they entered.
5
He passed by the tables and collections of alien artifacts in the next room, refusing to look at the pictures and security feeds on the walls. He didn’t want any part of it. Rather, Grant kept his eyes on the tiles beneath his bare feet. He needed to get away from them all; if only to think privately for a moment. Silence. Solitude. Anything.
Rounding the last corner, Grant stepped back out onto the walkway across the expanse from the Flagstaff. Omega and the Emissary were standing there, watching the human vessel as he expected, but to their right was another platform he had not seen before.
The sight caused him to stop in his tracks. There, not twenty meters away, rested his blood-red fighter, delicately parked on the white deck and wrapped with thin, conformal scaffolding. As he stood speechless, his hosts turned back.
I believe this was yours, correct? Omega asked. If I’m not mistaken, it’s what you needed to see.
Grant nodded, without shifting his gaze. “Yes. Can I go to it?”
Of course. Take all the time you need and let us know your thoughts.
The statement interpreted itself as awkward and foreboding, but Grant ignored it and quickly walked to the landing pad, transfixed by what remained of his home.
The ladder below the fuselage was deployed so he climbed up and instantly felt a shocking chill of the metal against his bare skin. Apparently the surfaces they had traveled on before had conducted heat far differently than the forged alloys of Earth. It was strange he hadn’t hardly stopped to think about it before.
Grant carefully maneuvered around the white alien scaffolds on the sides that resembled the blades of a fungus. He opened the canopy with a hiss and dropped into the pilot’s seat. Sensing the passenger, the rams behind him pulled the glass back into place, sealed the cockpit once more and left the commander in isolation from the outside world.
Closing his eyes, he raked his fingers across the banks of controls on both sides before letting them rest on the twin sticks with another six triggers each. The placement and give in the sensors and actuators were precisely as he had remembered. Letting his mind wander, Grant could see the stars sliding by outside the screen, the dull roar of the boosters and the crack of the weapons transmitted through the frame.
Without thinking, his hand went forward and dropped straight on the center panel. On another day, it would have recognized his presence and ignited the engines, but today there was nothing at all. It could have been so simple, he thought. With only the slightest change in circumstances he could have lived his life and been forgotten by the world. Why did it have to be like this?
The commander’s eyes snapped open. The screens were still
dark. He was still dressed in silk pajamas. The Flagstaff was on the other side of a massive alien landing bay. In the room behind him, five men and two psychotic aliens were waiting for him to lead them through God-only-knew. Whatever world he had just remembered was gone like a rifle cartridge.
They were right; his mind accepted the fact. They were right and he knew it. He knew what needed to be done, but facing it was something else altogether. When he drove the ship straight off the map, Grant half thought that’d have been the end of the enterprise. Whether they lived or died, they’d have bought Earth a quick respite or maybe even enough time for reinforcements to arrive and mount a defense.
To not only survive the escape but to now be thrust into the middle of some alien’s intergalactic war was not part of his calculations. Had he seen this coming, Grant surmised, he’d as soon staged a grand exit back above Mars and had that be his personal blaze of glory. He shook his head; there was no room to think of such options anymore.
He already knew it; the old world was gone and there were other things he needed to do. Omega must have been mistaken, but at least he could still go out fighting rather than as a wishy-washy coward. If they came to the correct conclusion that he wasn’t a great leader behind their grand design, so be it and better for them. In the meantime…
Grant took a deep breath and released the canopy once more. Forcing himself up, he climbed out and around the armaments and protrusions on the surface back to the ladder. He slid back down to the deck and felt the warming sensation in his feet change again as he hit the ground. Now Omega and the Emissary were just a few meters away, carefully looking over the ship.
Have you reached a decision? Omega asked as he approached.
“Yes,” Grant nodded. “I don’t know how much good we can do, but I’ll take whatever you can give us. Maybe together we can plan something out.”
Excellent. So you’ve come to accept the way of the world?
“I don’t doubt your intelligence, but I still don’t think I’m the person you think I am. With me telling you that, I will serve as well as I can until it is no longer required.”
MissionSRX: Deep Unknown Page 5
