Voidstalker

by John Graham

  “You said the DNA they used was based on fossilised remains,” Cato pointed out, “was this alien part of the original crew?”

  “The observatory does not require an organic crew.” The observer replied perfunctorily.

  “Well if there was no crew needed, then what was this thing doing onboard?” Viker demanded, “What kind of ‘observatory’ was this place?”

  “‘Observatory’ is an imperfect translation.” The observer replied. “The term might be better translated as ‘observational facility’.”

  Gabriel activated his gravity belt. Seeing his action, the squad did the same.

  “You have activated your…untranslatable…devices,” the observer noted, “Yet the observer does not detect any nearby…untranslatable…threats.”

  “We call them ‘gravity belts’,” Gabriel replied, “And before I explain why, how quickly would it take the Swarm to reach the central chamber?”

  “From its current location, approximately ten minutes.”

  “Viker, get behind me.” Gabriel ordered, turning his back, “I need your help.”

  Viker paused for a second, then stowed his weapon and stood behind Gabriel.

  “There’s a slot on the underside of the command module,” Gabriel said, “open it.”

  Viker did as instructed, and the slot opened, revealing a turnkey with a small keyhole in the middle. The light around the key was glowing a dangerous red.

  “Turn the key 180 degrees counter-clockwise,” Gabriel continued, “and be prepared to catch the module when it detaches.”

  “I hope you’re not about to blow us all up, colonel.” Viker quipped wryly.

  “Do exactly as I say,” Gabriel replied with deadly seriousness, “and we might just survive this suicide mission after all.”

  Viker turned the key. The complicated set of mechanical latches holding the device in place unlocked simultaneously, and the ‘command module’ detached cleanly from Gabriel’s armour, dropping into Viker’s hands.

  As soon as the bomb detached, a timer appeared in the corner of everyone’s HUDs.

  ‘30:00:00’, ’29:59:03’, ’29:58:08’.

  “Now, attach it to the back of my belt.” Gabriel instructed Viker.

  Viker duly pressed the bomb against the back of Gabriel waist, and the magnetic clamps on Gabriel’s belt latched onto the deadly payload, fastening it securely behind him.

  “I have a theory.” Gabriel said aloud to the observer. “You were built in order to study how the Swarm influences organics, which is why you don’t need an organic crew.”

  The observer was silent.

  “The original alien from which this thing was cloned,” Gabriel continued, confident in his conclusions, “and probably hundreds of others, were used as lab rats for you to observe while the Swarm enthralled them one by one. And when you lost control of the experiment, you deliberately crashed into this moon and waited for the test subjects to die.”

  “Come to think of it,” Cato added, expanding on Gabriel’s accusation, “you probably weakened the containment shield on purpose in order to let the Swarm corrupt the researchers and watch what happened. Except this time the Swarm was smart enough to figure out how to disable the shield indefinitely, until we restored it for you.”

  Another round of silence.

  “The observer has greatly underestimated your species’ deductive capabilities.” The observer noted backhandedly, “And it seems you do not trust the observer’s intentions.”

  “Of course we don’t trust your intentions.” Gabriel answered, “Aside from the fact that you split us up against our will and hid the true nature of this place, you’re an alien artificial intelligence, and our primary mandate is to protect our species from alien threats.”

  “So you wish to guard against any ulterior motive that the observer might possess by triggering the antimatter device’s countdown? That is logical.” The observer responded, “However, the Swarm does not know your current location, and the time estimate is based on the assumption that it heads immediately for the central chamber.”

  “Well then I suggest you get its attention, and quickly.” Gabriel replied, “Because one way or another, this bomb will go off. Whether you’re destroyed along with the Swarm depends on getting it into the containment field along with the bomb.”

  “If we fail, you will also obliterated.” The observer pointed out, “Does the voidstalker truly possess no sense of self-preservation?”

  “I have five…technically six reasons to leave this place alive,” Gabriel answered, “but if I have to die to make sure they can live, so be it.”

  * * *

  The doorbell sounded and the intercom lit up with a video image of the caller. Roused from her anxiousness and self-pity, Aster walked over to the intercom and saw an Asgard Civil Security officer on the other side, flanked by two support androids. The intercom’s holographic display identified him as Detective Timothy Bell.

  “This is Detective Bell from Asgard Civil–” the ACS officer began.

  “I can see who you are,” Aster replied impatiently, “what can I do for you?”

  “Is Aster Thorn available?” he enquired, ignoring her impertinent tone.

  “You’re speaking to her now.”

  “Open the door.” The detective ordered, “I need to speak to you, urgently.”

  “Why can’t you just talk through the intercom?”

  “Refusing to cooperate with the authorities is a criminal offence.” The detective warned her, “Open the door and I’ll tell you exactly why we need to talk.”

  The maganiel android was still standing guard in the hallway, and Aster gestured for it to come over. Then, reluctantly, she opened the front door.

  The ACS detective was dressed in a regular uniform with light body armour, whereas the two armed support androids accompanying him were equipped with submachine guns; a fact which put the maganiel android on alert.

  “Do you know a Dr Felix Kessler?” Detective Bell asked.

  “Yes,” Aster replied suspiciously, “I work with him at Jupiter Engineering Co.”

  Aster was sick to her back teeth of being interrogated by authority figures, uniformed or not; but she knew better than to be overly rude to him.

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “This morning, at the labs.” Aster replied.

  “Yes, you were suspended this morning pending an internal investigation into a security breach there,” Detective Bell noted, consulting his wrist-top computer, “is that correct?”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss the details.” Aster said legalistically.

  “Neither were your employers,” the detective noted, “After you were suspended, did you come straight home or did you go anywhere first?”

  “I came straight home.” Aster responded, “What happened with Felix?”

  “You haven’t seen the news?” the detective raised an eyebrow.

  “No.” Aster answered, her stomach tightening.

  Detective Bell pulled up a set of images on his wrist-top computer’s holographic display and flipped the display around for her to see. Aster looked at the screen, and the colour and feeling drained from her face.

  It was a slideshow of a set of crime scene photos, showing Felix lying dead in some kind of private room. He was slumped on his side with a gunshot wound through the side of his head. She could tell it was him from his dyed black and gold hair, and from his steel grey eyes, now blank and lifeless.

  “He was found dead about an hour ago.” The detective explained, “Bruising on his arms and legs indicates that he was physically restrained by someone, or something, much stronger than himself. Something like the maganiel android you have there.”

  Aster was in complete shock, too much shock to register the veiled accusation.

  “Has your maganiel android left the house at all?” the detective asked.

  “…No…” Aster replied falteringly, “no it hasn’t.”

 
“This unit has not departed the house since it was reactivated approximately twelve hours ago.” The maganiel android volunteered helpfully.

  “We’ll need to confirm that by accessing your maganiel’s logs.” The detective replied, “And I’ll need you to come in for further questioning as well.”

  “You heard what it said,” Aster said defensively, regaining her resolve, “the maganiel hasn’t left the house since I activated it.”

  “And how do I know you didn’t tell your maganiel’s to say that after ordering it to kill Felix Kessler?” Detective Bell asked.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Aster demanded angrily, “I’ve known Felix for years, you seriously think that I killed him?”

  “Dr Kessler went missing in the wake of a suspicious power failure at your place of work, a power failure that you were suspected of causing.” The detective pointed out, “Then you were suspended from work and claim to have come straight home afterwards. Somewhere in that sequence of events, Dr Kessler was murdered; so if you know what’s good for you, I suggest you come with me immediately.”

  “Unless you have an arrest warrant, you can fuck off.” Aster said defiantly.

  “Verbal harassment of an ACS officer or obstruction of justice, which would you prefer to be arrested on?” the detective asked.

  “Again, if you don’t have a warrant, then have a nice day.” Aster said before attempting to shut the door in the detective’s face.

  The detective stuck his foot in the door, preventing it from shutting, then tried to force his way inside the apartment. With reactions faster than any Human could match, the maganiel drew its sidearm and stuck the barrel in the detective’s face, pushing him back with the gun. The officer backpedalled immediately as the two ACS support androids in turn raised their weapons, taking aim at the maganiel.

  “This unit has been authorised to employ lethal force in defence of the residents of this home.” The maganiel politely informed the detective.

  “Oh, you’re definitely my prime suspect now.” the detective said menacingly, reaching for his comm. device, “this is Detective Bell requesting armed backup at my location. One hostile suspect and one armed android present.”

  “Would you like to explain to your backup how you tried to force your way into my home?” Aster said gloweringly, taking cover behind the maganiel.

  “If you had nothing do with Dr Kessler’s murder, then why don’t you just come in and explain everything?” the detective challenged her.

  “Because I’m sick to death of being interrogated over things that I’m not fucking guilty of!” Aster raged, her composure dissolving, “and after being suspended from my job, you come to my door to tell me one of my friends was murdered and that I’m your suspect!”

  “Well, sorry for your loss,” the detective replied without sounding too sorry, “but unless you have any information that can point us in the right direction, at best you’re a person of interest, and at worst you are the prime suspect.”

  “You needed backup?” said another voice from the corridor.

  Everyone turned to see another uniformed individual approaching, also accompanied by his own team of armed support androids. But the newcomer’s uniform was plain and dark, without any insignias, let alone ACS markings.

  “Who the frick are you?” the detective demanded.

  “Scan me.” The unidentified person replied.

  With a glare of suspicion on his face, the detective approached the newcomer and flash-scanned his eyes. His suspicion evaporated when he saw the ID and organisational affiliation.

  “That’s right,” said the newcomer, “The acronym for authority here is ‘DNI’.”

  “This woman is a person of interest in a murder investigation.” The detective protested.

  “Yeah, that’s why I’m here,” the DNI agent replied, “we know for a fact that she’s not your culprit. We have the evidence to prove it and I’ll be accompanying you back to your HQ so we can clear all this up.”

  The detective’s suspicious glare returned, but he duly turned away and reached for his comm. device, presumably to contact his superiors.

  “Dr Thorn,” said the DNI agent to Aster, “we received your communication.”

  “It was Jezebel who killed him,” Aster asserted in a hushed tone, “I know it.”

  “That may or may not be the case,” the agent replied, “I couldn’t possibly comment.”

  “Who else could it be?” Aster insisted, “She took my children home with her from the medical centre, which has to be a massive security breach, and then she tried to–”

  The DNI agent raised a finger to silence her, his expression turning serious.

  “Never talk about confidential matters out in the open.” He said sternly.

  “Well, you saw what I sent, didn’t you?” Aster demanded.

  “That’s not for me to say,” The DNI agent answered, “I came down here because the ACS officer was going to arrest the wrong person.”

  “Ok, but…Felix was a close friend of mine,” Aster explained, her voice shaking a little, “can you at least promise me that you’ll get whoever killed him?”

  “It’s all being sorted out,” The agent promised.

  * * *

  From a gentle glow, the containment shield had brightened into a translucent ball of light, bright enough to illuminate the entire cavernous central chamber. Standing on the raised dais at the edge of the scaffolding platform stood the self-styled leader of the Faithful, facing the containment shield with his hands raised as if in prayer.

  Some distance behind him, eight figures were crouched down in a semi-circle around the prophet like a gathering of bodyguards or attending priests. They were the same type of surgically mutilated scarecrows that the squad had encountered earlier – the remains of their J.E. Co. security uniforms still visible on their monstrously deformed bodies.

  A squad of enthralled foot soldiers stood further back at the edge of the platform, watching the prophet as he presumably listened to the Voice in his head. They were meant to be guarding the entrance to the central chamber, but were standing in visible awe of the spectacle before them.

  Derelict in their sentry duty as they were, none of them noticed as the four remaining commandoes appeared from one of the sub-chambers and executed them from behind. Their comparatively weak shielding failed to deflect, or even stop, the commandoes’ bullets, and they crumpled to the floor, their faces blown out by the exit wounds.

  The gunfire alerted the honour guard of scarecrows. They turned around and stared at the squad, their cybernetic eyes glowing electric blue, highlighting the congealed blood stains on their cheeks. Without any signal from the prophet, they howled like rabid attack dogs and charged, pouncing forward on limbs enhanced with synthetic muscle tissue.

  The squad switched to concussive shots and fired at the charging scarecrows. The creatures’ surgically implanted shield emitters rippled and flashed as most of the pellets were deflected. Some made it through the scarecrows’ shields, punching through their cybernetically enhanced flesh but barely slowing them down.

  Bale tossed a frazzler grenade into the path of the charging scarecrows. Detonating in mid-air, the device emitted a powerful repulsive field similar to the shielding of its targets. The resulting interaction of discordant energy fields produced a violent and instantaneous feedback loop. The pack of scarecrows was sent flying like a collection of ragdolls in a windstorm, their shields frazzled out by the explosion.

  The squad switched back to automatic fire and executed the scarecrows with precision bursts before they could get up again, aiming for their torsos and heads. The creatures screamed in fury – they probably couldn’t feel pain – as the hail of bullets riddled their bodies, punching through vital organs, or fracturing as they penetrated bionic components.

  Coloured liquid leaked from the scarecrows’ wounds – a mixture of red blood and clear mechanical fluid – and their muscles twitched and spasmed as they died. It wa
s a nastier way to go than the other four, but no one doubted that they were better off dead.

  “Your blasphemous schemes are transparent to me, even without the Voice’s guidance.” the prophet’s voice boomed through a vocal enhancer.

  The prophet turned around to face the squad. He was still dressed in his makeshift priestly robes made out of a hazmat overcoat covered in bloody symbols and glyphs. The micro-emitters in his skin glowed faintly, ready to swat aside any incoming projectiles, but the look of zealous superiority on his face was crinkled with frustration.

  “So what do you think our plans are, then?” Gabriel asked, hoping to keep the prophet talking until the Swarm arrived.

  “You have successfully reactivated the prison in which the Swarm was held.” The prophet replied, “No doubt with the assistance of the entity which inhabits the Temple, seeking to prevent others from partaking of the knowledge that the Voice of the Swarm imparts.”

  “Entity?” Gabriel opted to feign ignorance, “what entity?”

  “The lying voice that speaks from within the walls of the Temple, enticing you to reactivate the containment field in order to re-entrap the Swarm and its anointed host!” The prophet bellowed with righteous anger, “The entity which has attempted to thwart the Faithful by erecting barriers and tossing machinery to and fro like toys! You have ignorantly chosen to whore yourselves out to its blasphemous schemes!”

  “If we noticed, I guess they would too.” Bale mused.

  “It is an evil spirit making craven and desperate attempts to thwart the re-ascendance of a power far greater than itself!” the prophet thundered away, “The Swarm is a power which it can merely observe, but not confine; one which has granted unto me, and unto my Faithful, secrets unfathomable to the narrow minds of the greedy and wretched corporates or the evil, fricking government!”

  “You’re out-n-out brain-fricked.” Viker retorted in Undercity dialect.

  “Am I?” the prophet asked rhetorically, “or is it really your superiors at the Directorate of Naval Intelligence who have been deluding you all this time, sending you into the carnivore’s den to protect Humanity from the supposed threat of xenotech research whilst secretly pilfering the fruits of that research for themselves?”