by John Graham
This was bad. Each of their weapons fired tiny pellets of metal shaved off from a single block inside the gun’s frame, which meant they could expend tens of thousands of rounds without running out of shots. But their bullets were next to useless against those wrist-shields, and the squad had run out of explosives to overcome them.
Gabriel glanced around at the chamber, noticing that it was much larger than the cube-shaped sub-chambers they had passed through. The chamber was shaped like a hemisphere and was full of lab machinery arranged around some kind of basalt column in the centre stretching from floor to ceiling. But there was nothing that could help them fight back.
“Viker, cover me!” Gabriel ordered as he stowed his weapon and drew the xenotech sword he had taken earlier.
Viker understood his plan and raised his wrist-shield to cover him, advancing on the phalanx of enemies with Gabriel huddled behind. Gabriel wasn’t sure what effect the alien sword would have against energy shielding, but if the blade could cut clean through carbon nanotubing, it was worth a try.
Gabriel clicked the switch at the base of the sword’s handle, activating the energy field and causing the blade to shimmer ever so slightly. Cato and Bale provided covering fire as the two sides closed in on one another. Once they were close enough, Gabriel rolled forwards and swung his sword in a massive arc.
The xenotech blade scythed through the wrist-barriers as if they weren’t even there, creating a flash and a discordant whirring noise as it interacted violently with the shielding. The sword continued on through the bodies of all three shield wielders, cutting cleanly through their armour and flesh. As they crumpled to the ground, the squad of attackers behind them were quickly gunned down by Cato and Bale, eliminating the immediate threat.
Or so they thought.
Their motion trackers and other sensors became scrambled with junk data as something approached. At the other end of the corridor appeared a vaguely female figure clad in a black suit with a bulbous helmet and a featureless black visor who tossed an object their way. It bounced off the walls and rolled to halt on the floor in front of the squad; they dived into cover right before it detonated.
Bale and Cato managed to duck behind the corner and avoid getting hit, whilst Viker crouched down behind his wrist-barrier, the energy shield absorbing most of the force that came his way. But Gabriel was closest to the device when it detonated, and the shockwave sent him flying across the chamber like a ragdoll. He hit a robotic arm set up next to the central column, the impact of his body pushing the machine forward into the column.
The robotic arm was equipped with an electric arc projector, and when the projector’s prongs touched the column, close to a million volts were transferred to its surface. The column lit up like a carnival showpiece, illuminating an intricate pattern of circuitry that covered its surface and spreading across the ceiling, walls, and floor like a fast-moving rash all the way to chamber’s entrance.
The edges around the corridor entrance began to glow and a translucent wall appeared, sealing off the corridor from the chamber and trapping the black widow outside. It also meant that the squad was trapped inside the chamber. Gabriel picked himself up off the ground and looked up at the mysteriously reactivated column.
“About time for a deus ex machina stroke of luck.” Gabriel remarked as he deactivated his sword and stowed it on his back.
“What was that, sir?” Bale asked, the classical metaphor passing straight over his head.
“Nothing.” Gabriel replied, “We’ve got some breathing room. Look around the chamber for supplies or anything we can use.”
Mindful of the shimmering barrier, the squad fanned out to explore the chamber.
In addition to the suite of ceiling-height robotic arms meant to probe the glowing column, several thick cables had been attached to it using special clamps, forming crude connections between the alien machine and the banks of computers and scanner equipment that lined the walls of the chamber. There were no guns or explosives anywhere to be found; although, being a field laboratory, that wasn’t terribly surprising.
In one corner was a spectroscopic analysis chamber with an oblong shaped block suspended in the middle. The analysis had been left to run on a continuous loop, bathing the basalt-coloured block in a sensory light while the computers mindlessly churned out the results onto the unattended holographic screens.
“Does anyone see any square-shaped holes on that column?” Gabriel asked as he examined the oblong block.
“Yeah, there’s one right near the bottom.” Viker replied, “Why?”
“I’ve found a piece that might fit.” Gabriel answered, reaching in and plucking the block out of the chamber, the sensors deactivating automatically as it was removed.
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to switch this thing on, sir.” Cato said hesitantly.
“But it’s already been switched on.” Viker pointed out.
“And you want to activate it even more?” Cato shot back.
Gabriel’s instincts landed him solidly on Cato’s side. He had dealt with xenotechnology before, and you never just switched on an alien device without first knowing exactly what it was, what it would do when switched on, and how to switch it off again.
“Colonel, what do you want us to do with this thing?” Bale asked.
The squad didn’t have the experience that Gabriel did, but they understood the dilemma all the same. They were safe – or trapped – inside the chamber thanks to the machine they had inadvertently revived. That didn’t mean it was a good idea to switch it on all the way.
One of the computer screens began to flash, brightly enough to illuminate the chamber, arresting the attention of the squad. As they turned to look at it, the flashing stopped and a pair of shapes appeared on the screen: a rectangle with a gap in the side, and a smaller block moving across the screen until it filled the gap.
“Spooky coincidence, or a message?” Viker wondered aloud.
“I vote we ignore the machine telling us to switch it back on.” Cato said.
“For what it’s worth, I second Cato.” Bale added.
A banging sound coming from the corridor snapped their attention back. Someone or something on the other side of the energy barrier was striking it in an effort to break through. Just as they were wondering how hitting an energy field could make a noise like that, the lights in the column began to flicker and grow pale.
“That electric jolt must be wearing off.” Gabriel said, kneeling down in front of the socket in the column with the block in hand, “and once it does, the barrier will probably fail.”
“Are you sure we can hold them off once they break through the barrier, Cato?” Viker asked, tightening his grip on his gun, “because I’m fricking not.”
The brightly-lit alien circuitry continued to flicker, and the glowing energy forming the barrier around the threshold grew fainter and weaker. Seeing that the energy barrier was weakening, the enemies on the other side began to bang even harder, causing the translucent barrier to light up each time it was struck.
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” Gabriel said as he inserted the block into the slot.
The tepid and flickering lighting in the column re-illuminated and became bright green, re-energising the circuitry and restoring the barrier to full power.
“RESTORED.” A booming voice reverberated throughout the chamber.
The squad instinctively raised their weapons, fanning out in search of the source of the voice. They were so focussed on the apparent threat that it took them a moment to realise that the voice had spoken to them in Standard Human Speech.
“Identify yourself!” Gabriel demanded using his helmet speakers.
“YOU FIRST.” Said the voice, seeming to emanate from everywhere at once.
“Voidstalker.” Gabriel answered, declining to give his actual name or rank.
“A stalker of the void.” the voice said, lowering its volume, “one who hunts by means of stealth through the emptiness
of space. A curious choice of self-identifier.”
“That’s what you can call me,” Gabriel shot back, “now what do we call you!”
The voice was silent for a moment.
“No appropriate self-identifier exists,” the voice answered, “but if you desire to ascribe a designation, you may use the term ‘observer’.”
“Ok, ‘observer’,” said Gabriel, “have you been watching us this whole time?”
“Correct.” the observer confirmed, “the observer has been observing your kind ever since you first gained entrance to the observatory.”
“Observatory? You mean this place?”
“Correct.”
“What were you ‘observing’?” Cato asked.
“Permitting one’s subordinates to speak out of turn is a behaviour the observer has not observed amongst your kind before.” The observer noted condescendingly.
“Answer the question!” Gabriel snapped back impatiently.
“The observatory’s purpose is beyond your ability to comprehend,” was the imperious response, “but it has traversed the void between countless stars to fulfil it.”
“‘Void between stars’?” Gabriel asked, “This is a ship?”
“Correct.” The observer replied, “However, it is no longer capable of interstellar travel. The observer’s own systems were reduced to minimal functionality. Only sensory capacity has remained fully functional.”
“How long has this ship been here?”
“The observatory’s landing occurred approximately 605,936 local solar years ago.” The observer replied, “Your kind gained entrance to the observatory through a breach in the hull approximately five local solar years ago.”
“That’s just over a million Terran years,” Viker said over the comm. in amazement, “that means it’s been lying here since before Humanity invented fire…”
“The observer can detect your transmissions, but is unable to decode their content.”
“The thing we found in the central chamber, what was it?” Bale asked.
“The Swarm.” The observer replied. “It was contained safely in the central chamber of the observatory until your kind disturbed it approximately one local solar year ago in an effort to study it. One after another, it corrupted their minds and instead of studying it, they began to display behaviour towards it indicative of extreme, superstitious awe.”
“Is that why they began doing all those sick experiments on each other?” Cato asked.
“The observer observed that the earliest test subjects were those who refused to be ‘enlightened’.” the observer explained, “Later subjects were volunteers. It was then that those of your kind who have settled within this ship began to self-identify as the ‘Faithful’. However, the observer prefers the term ‘Enthralled’.”
“The thing you called the ‘Swarm’,” Gabriel said, “the Faithful’s leader referred to it as the ‘Voice’. What did he mean by that?”
“When the Swarm enters the body of an organic host,” The observer explained, “it initiates temporary neural fusion, resulting in neurological data transfer directly into the host’s mind. The Enthralled refer to this process as ‘enlightenment’, since it imparts technical knowledge otherwise beyond the host’s grasp. After the Swarm leaves the host, the effects of the neural fusion remain long afterwards in the form of a ‘voice’ or ‘whispering’.”
“That explains the tech advantage they have.” Said Viker.
“Furthermore,” the observer continued, “the data transfer appears to be bi-directional, permanently imparting a portion of the host’s own memories and knowledge to the Swarm.”
“So they know what it knows, and it knows what they know.” Gabriel said.
“Correct.” The observer confirmed.
Gabriel’s stomach tightened when he realised what that meant.
“Colonel…” Viker said over the comm., having had the same thought, “Ogilvy...”
“The Swarm knows what he knows.” Gabriel’s blood ran uncharacteristically cold.
“Before they became enthralled to the Swarm, your kind deemed it unacceptable to exclude an individual from a conversation by means of secrecy.” The observer noted.
“You said you still had sensor functionality,” said Gabriel, “Can you track the Swarm?”
“The observer has full sensory capacity throughout all chambers and passageways of the observatory.” the observer replied, “The observer detects 732 distinct life signs, excluding your own, including one possessed by the Swarm.”
“Where is the Swarm right now?”
“On the other side of the barrier.” The observer responded.
The squad snapped to attention and trained their weapons on the barrier.
“Can it get through?” Gabriel demanded, having run out of ideas on how they were supposed to fight an enemy like this.
“Unknown.” The observer replied, sounding unconcerned.
The translucent barrier began to glow, releasing a bizarre whining sound as an armoured foot, then a knee, and finally a body stepped through as if the barrier weren’t there. Ogilvy looked like a supernatural plague made manifest with his jet black eyes, his mouth twisted into a demonic snarl, and the cloud of alien particles that orbited his body like a dark storm.
“Correction.” the observer observed wryly, “Yes, it can.”
The squad opened fire, but to no avail. Ogilvy didn’t even flinch as the bullets struck his Swarm-generated shielding and were violently slapped away in all directions.
“Observer! We need an exit, now!” Gabriel shouted.
A section of the basalt-black wall flashed green, repelling a quarter tonne bank of computers away from it and across the room straight into the possessed operator’s torso, pinning him against the wall. He screamed in rage, the Swarm buzzing violently in a reflection of his fury as he pounded at the bank of computers that trapped him.
There was a whirring sound and the glowing circuitry on the central column suddenly died. Then the column itself began to move, retracting smoothly and noiselessly into a slot in the domed ceiling, and opening up a manhole sized escape route in the floor.
“Here is your exit.” The observer informed them congenially, “It will take you directly to the…untranslatable…at the opposite end of the observatory.”
“Why do we need to go there?” Viker demanded.
“The observer requires your assistance in containing this threat.” the observer informed them, “By restoring the…untranslatable…in this location, all local systems have been restored to full functionality. Once you have repeated the action in the other five chambers, the observer will be able to do more than merely observe.”
“Down the hatch, boys!” Gabriel ordered.
Anywhere was better than here, and the squad members hopped into the hole one after another without complaint, each one vanishing suddenly as a powerful gravity field sucked them downwards at high speed.
The Swarm-possessed Ogilvy finally tossed the bank of computers to one side, freeing itself from the imprisoning weight. Then it turned and fixed its evil, alien gaze on Gabriel who stared back through his visor.
“You must go now, voidstalker.” Said the observer.
Gabriel snapped out of the staring match and took the plunge.
* * *
Aster’s blood ran cold in her veins for the entire elevator ride up.
The red data chip was gone. Had someone snatched it out of her pocket during the blackout, or had it simply fallen out amid all the jostling? It really didn’t matter how the data chip had vanished; the important thing was it was gone, along with whatever leverage she might have had over Jezebel Thorn.
On second thought, it was probably an incredible stroke of luck. Chairman Darius must have gotten wind that Jezebel had a mole in his company, and the shared surname made her the obvious suspect. If a data chip full of J.E. Co.’s secrets were found in her possession that would be clear proof of guilt; whereas the only thing on the
blue decoy chip was company spyware which she had installed.
The elevator arrived near the top of the tower, and the guards led Aster past a series of swanky offices and conference rooms, with Darius pacing ahead of them. She’d never been up to this part of the building before; this was where the actual business operations of the company took place: accounting, sales, client relations, and so on. Presumably, this was also where they took suspicious employees to be questioned.
The closer they got to their destination, the faster Aster’s heart raced. In fact, her apprehension was turning to palpable fear. But why should she feel afraid? After all, she was innocent – mostly. She hadn’t stolen or sabotaged anything, and she hadn’t passed on any sensitive information to J.E. Co.’s competitors or to anyone else. She hadn’t actually done anything to violate her employment contract, let alone the law; so this ought to be a breeze.
Finally, after passing through a security door, they arrived at an interrogation room. It was a windowless chamber with a single chair in the centre, a neuroimaging scanner on a robotic arm suspended overhead. It was oddly spacious for an interrogation room, with one whole corner given over to a monitoring booth with a bank of holographic screens where her neural activity could be monitored.
“Have a seat, Dr Thorn.” Chairman Darius ordered her, and she did as instructed.
The chair was more comfortable than it looked – probably to make the subject lower their guard – but as soon as Aster settled into the chair and gripped the armrests, the restraints closed around her wrists and ankles, securing her to the seat. Aster breathed and relaxed; she had things to hide, but nothing illegal. As long as she stayed calm, she would be fine.
The neuroimaging scanner descended from the ceiling and settled into place around her head, illuminating her head with a soft blue light as it activated. Over at the monitoring booth, Aster could see a mirror-image of her neural activity on the holographic screens; that was probably a design oversight on the part of the engineers, since the subject wasn’t supposed to be able to monitor their own progress.
The two guards left the room, leaving Aster alone with the chairman and a technician.
