Raif engaged the audio again, trying to contain his giddiness. There was still plenty of time for the generator to fail. “Von, that’s not my ship back there, just so you know. I’m flying over the Persepolis. Hopefully those vapes will follow the decoy and give you time to vanish.”
“Raif—what are you talking about?” came Von’s sharp reply.
The first of the evanescence pulses launched from the vapors at the false citus. The copy, also hauling the tunneler and looking every bit a perfect copy of Raif’s ship, banked hard to the right, managing to dodge them. Traveling along its new course, it offered the vapors a tantalizing shot at its flank.
“It’s just a projection. I modified our sensors so that we can tell the difference,” Raif explained. “The citus that just dodged the vapors is a fake.” He didn’t have time for anything more. Von was a smart guy. He’d figure it out. Raif cut off the audio again before Gavin could jump in and tempt him back to sanity.
“I think I’m starting to get the picture,” came Cade’s thoughts. “Do you really think you’ll be able to last long enough for me to get in and out with the prisoners? Dodging those vapors was a clever trick, but those aren’t the only ships in the fleet.”
The citus descended towards the top of the massive enemy flagship. With perfect precision, Raif eased the tunneler down onto its surface and released it.
“Don’t you worry, I can bob and weave around this giant ball bearing for an eternity and then some. I’ll be here when you get out.”
Raif could tell Cade didn’t have the greatest confidence in the plan, but an understanding passed between them. There was no turning back now.
“Cade, if something does happen to me,” Raif added, “use the altitude capsules and try to escape on foot, okay?”
“Right.”
Raif knew that if it came to that, they wouldn’t make it, but it didn’t matter. For now they had the tunneler and the citus. Mathematically, they still had a chance.
Cade engaged the cross stream cone as the citus pulled away. The blue energy flared brightly, reflecting off the multi-faceted hull in a hundred places. The tunneler dipped forward, boring into the velar sheathed outer shell.
At the same time the praxis, as if irritated by a tiny creature attempting to scratch its way into its skin, began to move.
“Why is the praxis advancing on the city?” Von asked over the audio. “Is Hull finally starting to put up some kind of resistance?”
Gavin scanned the section of the view screen trained on Hull. Half a dozen ballast cruisers lumbered through the air accompanied by about twice as many of the smaller sovos, but they had yet to down a single Collective ship. Worse, without shields the Collective was ripping them to shreds almost as soon as they lifted off. Half their fleet was gone already.
The Maven was nearing the pickup location for the Werin. They may have lost their chance at rescuing the Sentients, but he hoped the forces of Hull would hold out at least long enough to let the prisoners get free.
“From where we are the Collective doesn’t look like it’s having any trouble,” Gavin reported.
He shifted his attention back to the tactical map inside his mind. The praxis continued closing in on the city, leaving the hovland cruisers behind. He could only assume the reason for the Persepolis’ advance would eventually become clear. In the meantime, Von’s group was fleeing and Raif’s ship had suddenly duplicated itself. Everything was falling apart. Gavin knew that the plan had been risky, but he never expected things to go this wrong this fast.
The vapors were close to being within firing range of Dreamer flight. Two of them had peeled off to engage Raif’s projection, but the other six were still bearing down on the main group. Gavin had hoped they would abandon their pursuit and return to the main battle at Hull, but Raif was right. They were going to overtake Von and the others. It was only a matter of time.
“I’m sorry I sent all of you into of this,” Gavin said. The weight of his decision fell heavy upon him. He tried desperately to think of a way out, but all of his abilities as a memorant and a scientist were useless in this situation. He couldn’t bend reality to his will or go back and change the past.
“With all due respect, Gavin,” Von said, “We’re not dead yet. We may still get out of this.”
I should have waited, thought this through, Gavin told himself.
“The vapors are pulling back,” Jax broke in. “And six—no eight lancers just came out of nowhere. They’re advancing on the Persepolis along with Raif’s extra…whatever that ship is.”
“Yes!” Von let out a cheer that echoed across the channel from the other pilots.
Gavin could hardly believe how quickly things had turned.
The vapors banked and turned to set course for the Persepolis. Were they heading off this new threat to the praxis? But where did the lancers come from? The Waymen had no ships like that as far as he knew. Then it hit him. Raif had said his citus was an illusion, some sort of projection which appeared, both to the naked eye and to scanning technology, to be an actual ship. The lancers must be projections as well.
“Those are Raif’s aren’t they?” Von arrived at the same conclusion.
“He’s full of surprises today,” Gavin said.
“Typical Raif. But I doubt those illusions will fool them for long. Permission to resume the mission.”
Gavin hesitated, knowing he would be risking these men’s lives all over again. But Von was right. Once the Collective saw through the projections, those vapors would be breathing down Raif’s neck. And the Persepolis was finally heading to Hull. They just might have a chance.
“Permission granted. Engage the enemy, Dreamer flight. Give Raif and Cade the time they need.”
Gavin watched Von’s ships on a tactical map on one of the view screens as they doubled back and reformed. The vapors, besides being faster ships, already had a significant head start on them and quickly closed the distance to the Persepolis. The phantom lancers swarming the praxis reacted with amazing skill, pivoting and darting behind the Persepolis to get out of the vapors’ line of fire.
Pursuing their targets, the vapors flew straight at the Collective flagship as if they meant to ram it. But just before crashing into the praxis’ velar carapace, the dots on the map disappeared and reappeared again on the other side, sending the unsuspecting lancers scattering in response. Pulses from the vapors bloomed on the tactical map in the aftermath, peppering the lancers with a deadly bouquet of evanescence. The bursts swallowed four of the phantoms and partially hit two more. Since shields were useless against oscillathes, the four lancers inside the blast waves plummeted to the sand, maintaining the ruse that they were piloted by actual men who had been killed in the blasts. The rest of the phantom ships continued to zip around the Persepolis like particles in orbit, dispersing in every direction to avoid getting caught in a cluster again. The vapors, still taking the bait, flared out in pursuit.
Though only four of the phantom ships had “survived” the vapors’ attack, the distraction bought Dreamer flight enough time to get within firing range. And unlike the fake ships, their lancers had actual weapons to fight back.
“All right, Dreamers,” came Von’s voice over the audio. “Let’s see if we can’t clear the skies a little.”
The Dreamers targeted the two vapors that were closest. Gavin saw the disruptor fire of the lancers across the tactical map. Two of the four shots connected. Though they failed to bring down either of the vapors, an orange-yellow circle appeared around the outside of the vapor’s dots on the tactical map indicating that their shields were damaged. One or two more hits and their shields would be gone. That was the one weakness of the vapors. So much of their energy was devoted to their oscillathe cannons and their blinking capabilities that their shields were almost nonexistent.
In the midst of the tense engagement, Cade’s voice blasted across the audio, “The prisoners are not at the specified location, Maven. We’ve been ambushed by somatarchs. A
ttempting to flee—” Then the audio went silent.
A stillness settled over the Command Center.
“I’m going in after him, Gavin,” Raif said, breaking the silence.
“No, Raif, you have no chance by yourself,” Gavin shot back.
“You’re not controlling my ship or my mind, Gav,” Raif said testily. “Just fire up the chronotrace and find out where they moved the prisoners to or this is going to be another one way trip. I’ll hit you up again when I’m inside.”
“Raif, you can’t—” Gavin began, but Raif had already disconnected from the channel.
Gavin sighed, wondering how Raif could be so intelligent and foolhardy at the same time. Then he remembered that his own plans didn’t always turn out as expected either.
Raif might be a loose canon, but Gavin couldn’t let him run around blind inside the Persepolis. Using the Maven’s esolace, he connected his mind to the chronotrace inside the lab and interrupted the current sequence it was running. He restarted it on a new trace, using an archived sequence from a little over a day ago as the starting point. He set Cyrith as the focus. He had been experimenting with thought and speech filters on the device and set the machine to alert him of any reference to the captured Sentients in the Developer’s thoughts or conversation.
“Lan, you’ve got three vapors bearing down on you, pull up,” Von warned over the audio channel, jerking Gavin’s thoughts back to the battle.
The tactical map flipped into Gavin’s mind just in time to see Lan’s ship caught in a trio of evanescence bursts. The next moment, his lancer stalled and went crashing to the ground. The green dot representing his ship disappeared from the map.
“Blanks,” Jax cursed under his breath.
“Keep it together,” Gavin said, but his words came out as if by rote. He had known that men would likely die on this mission, but the suddenness of Lan’s death still struck him like a blow to the face.
“Stay on the offensive,” Von urged, his voice steady. “Jax, Conner, follow my lead. Attack my target on my signal. Let’s make Lan’s death count for something.”
“Got it,” Jax said, his voice even stonier than Von’s.
Conner muttered a hurried, “Okay.”
Von’s ship shot up above the nearest vapor and Jax and Conner flared out to either side of it.
“Now!” Von ordered.
Only two of their shots connected, but that was all it took to erase the ship’s shields. A red circle started flashing around the vapor’s dot on the tactical map. One more hit might have finished it, but the ship blinked away before they could get off another shot.
“He jumped. Argh!” Jax howled in anger.
“He came out under the Persepolis,” Conner reported. “I’ve got a visual.”
“Quick, before his phase engine has a chance to recharge. He’s only vulnerable for a short time,” Von spurred them on.
Von’s ship pivoted to follow the dot representing the vapor. It zipped beneath the praxis and popped out the other side, catching one of the phantom lancers by surprise. The elusive vapor brought the projection down with a single pinpoint shot.
Jax and Conner dodged the blasts of several more vapors as they sped around the sides in pursuit of one of the enemy ships. Von nearly collided with one of them when he came tearing around the edge. The near collision forced him to veer off course and ruined any chance at getting off a shot. Jax got the drop on it, though, emerging around the side just in time to peg it dead center with a disruptor beam. The vapor went spiraling off course and crashed into the sand.
“Finally!” Conner cheered, but his celebration was short lived.
Four vapors blinked into existence near his ship. He had no way of avoiding the combined fire which smothered the airspace around his lancer.
No one said anything as Conner’s empty ship plummeted to the ground. Gavin’s stomach turned. He wanted to look away from the view screen, but knew the others needed him to stay focused on the battle.
It was not supposed to be like this. Where was the counterattack from Hull?
Heavy breathing filled the audio channel for the next few moments. The remaining two lancers dodged and swerved through the crowded airspace, avoiding the evanescence clusters, the vapors, and the praxis. All but one of the phantoms went down in quick succession, leaving the lone projection and what was left of Dreamer flight to harry the seven remaining vapors.
Gavin was tempted to order another retreat. Cade’s group was lost and probably Raif gone along with him. He couldn’t see any way to salvage this mission.
At that moment an alert from the chronotrace came through via the esolace.
Location of the prisoners discovered. Level 3, Cell block C.
“Raif, I found the prisoners,” Gavin reported over the audio, but there was no response. “Raif, connect your audio, you fool,” he muttered, striking the railing he was standing next to. The other crew in the Command Center, whom he had all but forgotten, stared at him momentarily before returning to monitor the view screen and flight controls.
“Raif, this is the Maven—” Gavin tried again. This time Raif cut in.
“Okay, Gavin, you better have what I need, because this ship is hotter than a glide engine after a test run. I’ve got hollow men crawling all over me.”
“Raif!” Gavin shouted breathlessly. “I’ve got the location. They’re on Level 3, Cell block C.”
“No way,” Raif fired back in astonishment. “I’m on Level 4 right now. I’ll be there in a microslice.”
“Excellent. Be careful, Raif,” Gavin told him, his tortured stomach spinning like a vortex.
“We’ll buy him the time he needs,” Von promised.
“I know you will,” said Gavin.
There was still little chance of success, but Gavin took courage from Von’s resolve in the face of such overwhelming odds.
Even as hope began welling up inside him, Gavin felt like they were still missing something. He knew he should pay attention to the tactical map and give whatever support he could to Jax and Von, but something was nagging him at the back of his mind. His plan had been risky, but almost every thing which could have gone wrong had. He may not have been the greatest military mind in the Vast, but he wondered if something else was going on.
On a hunch, he connected his mind to the chronotrace and pulled up the sequence depicting the information about the transfer of the prisoners which the device had just uncovered. He closed his eyes, the scene flashing through his mind. As the sequence played out inside his head, his stomach kept on churning.
Twenty-One
The Traitor's Sequence
Cyrith stood with Xander in one of the Persepolis’ sick bay units. The walls were lined with the same metal paneling as the rest of the ship, but with a raised ceiling to accommodate the equipment stored above the operating tables. Motionless bodies occupied two of the tables, thick polymeric straps holding them in place. Their brown hair and pale complexions were identical to that of the two Developers present except for the bluish tint to their skin. They were fresh from the vault.
An articulator, a monstrously large, bulbous device hung from the ceiling over each of the patients. One of them had been lowered over the table where Xander and Cyrith stood. They were busy manipulating the articulator’s multiple, serpentine appendages with their minds, making countless incisions into the body prostrate before them. It was another remapping procedure, one they had performed countless times before.
The body jerked, betraying the fact that the motionless figure was still alive. Perhaps the subject was dimly aware at some level of the fact that the two Developers were recreating his identity with every puncture, slice, and slit.
The cables and instruments the scientists were using to restructure the patient’s memories stopped abruptly in the middle of their writhing. One of the machine’s impossibly slender blades hovered next to the patient’s neck, reminiscent of a proboscis belonging to some giant metallic insect.
&nb
sp; Ship incoming, came a message from the Command Center to the two men present. It’s an attack skiff.
Cyrith took in a shallow breath, what passed for exasperation in the subdued scientist.
This is why we had a team of Developers, to deal with trivialities like this. He was about to answer with a suitable remark, something to the effect that he had full confidence the personnel running the Command Center could handle the situation, when he remembered something of vital importance: the infiltrators. Perhaps one of them had survived the quakes. Or it could have even been Malthus.
When the ship is in range give me a visual of the pilot, Cyrith instructed.
Certainly, came the response from Com.
The operation resumed silently, but lasted only about a microslice longer before the instruments paused again in the midst of their coordinated frenzy.
A mental image of the incoming skiff appeared in Cyrith’s mind. It was piloted by a single man dressed in desert gear like one of the andros.
Get me an iris scan, Cyrith ordered.
Half a moment later, the information from Com came streaming into his mind. Collective member 24602.
Excellent, Cyrith replied. One of the infiltrators made it after all.
He opened his eyes and directed his thoughts towards Xander. “I know it will take you more time without me, but you’ll have to finish this one alone. I have an urgent matter to attend to.”
“I understand,” Xander responded.
The articulator gracefully resumed its sinuous ministrations under Xander’s direction. Cyrith walked through the sliding door and made his way towards the cargo bay. Strictly speaking, he did not need to go meet the new arrival in person, but he preferred to communicate one on one over a private channel. With the security breaches of late, they could not take too many precautions. As he walked, Cyrith contemplated how it was that they had let the rogue memorant escape not once, but twice from the Collective’s facilities. Either Malthus, the former chief of security, had been slipping or this memorant was more dangerous than anyone realized. Having worked with Malthus for many years, Cyrith was inclined to believe the latter. Hopefully this visit would shed some light on that problem.
The Chronotrace Sequence- The Complete Box Set Page 85
