by C. S. Harte
Alyana’s lips curled into a half-smile. He already committed without saying it. “You must not have heard of me, which sadly does not surprise me. My reputation doesn’t always precede me.” She shrugged. “Well, I’m the best pilot in Fleet. I’ll handle the escape.”
“So you have a ship?”
“Do I have a ship?” She scoffed. “Best pilots always have a ship.”
“Then I suppose my job is to break this Samara alien out.”
“You may be a few cards short of a full deck,” she grinned, “but at least you can recognize the cards in your hand.”
“How do you expect me, a private with no reason to be in the brig wing, to access that area let alone break out a prisoner?”
Alyana rubbed her chin. “You got a datapad?”
“Sure…” Dren searched for the datapad underneath his blanket on the bed he had yet to make. “Here you go.”
Alyana logged into the tablet with her credentials. She quickly typed in a series of commands. “Congratulations, I’ve given you a field promotion to Captain. No one will question it until it’s too late. The rest is up to you. It might get messy. And by messy, I mean, you might have to kill people. But I rather you didn’t leave a trail of bodies. I suspect Samara will assist you once you free her.” She took off her captain’s wing and handed it to Dren.
He stared at it for a moment before taking it. “Don’t you need it?”
“I know how to walk and talk like a captain — you don’t.” She helped pin the insignia to his collar. “The prison guards will run their checks every two minutes. So, at most, you have exactly two minutes before the entire station is on lockdown to get her to the loading platform — J34. You won’t see a ship there, it’ll be cloaked, but trust it’s there. Run up the invisible ramp.”
“The invisible ramp?” Dren furrowed his brow.
“It’ll be there.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “If I wanted to kill you, do you really think I’m going through this elaborate lie to have you jump to your death?” Alyana smirked.
“I’m not sure who’s crazier here, you or me.”
“Given the stakes of what we’re doing and what happens if we fail, I’ll call it a tie. Any questions, Sugar Lips?”
“No,” Dren shook his head. “Well, one question. How long have you been planning this?”
“Just now,” Alyana chuckled. “They say the best plans are the spontaneous ones!”
“Who says that?”
“I just did.” She patted his shoulder. “Now remember, Samara is a Voice, the equivalent of a fully developed Entrent. She can help you, but do your best not to get on her bad side.”
“Understood, Captain.”
“Great…” She flicked the pin on his collar. “… Captain. I’ll see you at the star dock. Do not take too long. We only have one chance at this.”
Dren hurried to the prison section of the station. He walked at a brisk pace but did not run. He couldn’t draw attention to himself. From his quarters to the brig, he covered one and a half kilometers in 25 minutes. Too slow. It was morning, 07:30 hours. Many people have started their day; each person a potential witness to his future crimes. Some passers-by saluted him with a confused look, recognizing his captain rank but not recognizing who he was.
He still had a chance to back out. So far, he had done nothing wrong. That would be the safe play to make. The story told by Alyana was insane; she seemed just as crazy. But she wasn’t a ghost, and she had so many levels of detail. He had nothing to lose. It was true when she said he was on the DNR list. If it weren’t for her, he was on his way to being expunged.
Two guards stopped him as he approached the prison wing. “This area is off-limits to…”
Dren pulled his shoulders back. The captain’s wing glistened.
“I’m sorry, Captain,” said the guard on the left. “We have orders to not allow anyone to enter.”
Dren felt his pulse in his throat. He had to think of something fast. “Orders from the Fleet Marshal’s office, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And who gave you those orders?” Dren said in an irritated tone.
“Well…” He stepped into the personal space of the guard stopping him. “I’m the one who gave the orders. Now step aside, I have a high-value prisoner I need to interrogate. Unless…” he glanced over at the other guard. “You two want to explain to Fleet Marshall Barick why I can’t do my job?”
The guards looked at each other. “Yes, Sir,” said the guard on the left. “Sorry, Sir.”
Dren took a step forward but was pushed back by the second guard. He growled at the hand touching his chest.
“We have to confirm any visitor with the Fleet Marshal’s office.”
Dren gave the guard an intense stare. “Fine. It’s your career.”
The guard fumbled as he tapped on his auditory implant.
For a moment, Dren considered killing both guards. He definitely could before anyone would notice, before anyone could stop him. But how many more do I have to murder after that? How many before they send Whispers after me? This moment surprised Dren in how fast it came. Without fully realizing it, he had already passed a point of no return. No one on the other side of that comm would authorize him. It was a guarantee they would wipe his repository for pretending to be a Fleet Officer.
Dren unsheathed his combat knife. In two quick swipes, he slashed the throat of the two guards. Before their bodies hit the floor, he activated his speed neuromod and flew through the prison until he stopped at a corner 100 meters from Samara’s cell.
No one else stopped him. No one else saw him.
He placed one hand against the wall and vomited. He’d killed aliens before, but not humans. His movements were so cold and so efficient, he didn’t recognize them as his own. Dren tried to slow his breathing. It was them or me. Them or me… His left hand grabbed his shaking right arm. He checked the hallways for guards.
None were around.
Cautiously, he approached Samara’s cell. He stopped in front of a force field holding a diminutive, lavender-skinned female. She was smaller than Dren had expected and wore a glowing collar around her neck. He expected someone more dangerous-looking given all the warnings Alyana gave him about her powers. “Samara?” He asked standing three-meters in front of her.
She nodded and narrowed her eyes.
“I’m Private…” He fumbled his words. “… Captain… Captain Dren Arvol. I believe you know Captain Alyana Harrows? She sent me to free you.” He switched to his strength neuromod and smashed the cell control console. The force field holding Samara dissipated.
“Stop!” The robotic voice of a Centurias combat droid yelled from behind him. “Lower your weapons immediately. This is your one and only warning. We are authorized to use lethal force.”
Dren slowly turned around to see four droids and six prison guards moving to surround him. The droids had armed all of their automated shoulder cannons. “What’s going on here, marines?”
16
Dren slowly lowered his rifle and knife onto the floor. The distinctive, whistling sound of the Centurias autocannons carried into Dren’s mind.
They weren’t kidding; they intended to kill him the instant he made a wrong move.
At this moment, he knew his life was over. He murdered two human guards. Even if his tether was still active, Fleet wasn’t going to reshell him. Only once before did a clone kill a human. It was an accident, a case of friendly fire in the middle of an intense battle. That clone was permanently erased, expunged. Dren knew he would follow the same fate of that unlucky replicant. He wondered if he made the right choice in aligning his fate with Captain Alyana Harrows.
Drop to the ground when the fighting begins.
A soft voice in Dren’s mind spoke to him. His eyes darted, looking for the speaker. Was that a ghost?
One of the human guards kicked Dren’s weapons to the side. “Step away from the prisoner.”
Dren looked over h
is shoulder at Samara.
She nodded for him to comply.
As he took a step forward, all the human guards turned toward each other. “Wait… Wait… Wait…” They shouted before each of them pulled their respective triggers, downing all six guards simultaneously.
As instructed, Dren flopped to the floor and covered his head.
The droids immediately opened fire at Dren and Samara. The projectiles ricocheted off an invisible shield back at the armored robots, disabling them.
When the shooting stopped, Dren nervously picked himself up. “What… What just happened?”
“We cannot stay here, Dren Arvol.” With a slight movement of her finger, Dren’s knife lifted off the ground and into his waiting hands. “Where is the star dock?”
He took a moment to collect his bearings. “Right. The star dock.” He kept his stare on Samara.
“You have a concern.” She said leaning against a wall.
“You’re not human.”
“To my great fortune.” She scoffed.
“No,” he shook his head. “You’ll be easily spotted. We need to put you in an exo suit. Follow me!”
“I need a moment,” Samara said in between heavy breaths.
“What’s wrong?” Dren wrinkled his brow.
“This infernal collar. It diminishes me.”
“How do we get it off?”
“Perhaps, you have the strength to rip the device in two.”
Dren switched to his strength neuromod and placed his hands on opposite sides of the collar. The alien device flexed but would not break. He felt his pulse racing. Whatever it was, it seemed to drain him of strength. Dren scrunched his face and tried again. The second attempt finally worked. The collar shattered like glass as it broke.
Samara nodded at him; her eyes barely able to open.
Dren carried Samara in his arms and out of the prison wing, running past the two corpses Dren created. The pools of blood from their bodies had joined into one great puddle. He slowed for a moment, taking in the violence he had committed. A lump formed in his throat.
“This is not the course for weakness,” Samara said.
The armory was one floor below. They used a maintenance shaft to sneak there undetected. As soon as they reached the armory, the station’s alarm went off. The screen in the room flashed with Dren and Samara’s face. Every soldier and security personnel on the station would soon know their faces and join in the hunt.
“Hurry,” he pointed to an Obscura suit. “Put that on. You have the figure of a Whisper. No one would dare check under the helmet of a Whisper.”
While she dressed, Dren jumped into a Tempest suit. He finished first. Any good space marine needed only ten seconds. He tossed his knife, still coated with blood, into a storage locker. “I would give you a rifle, but I don’t think you need one.”
“You are correct,” she said, putting her helmet on.
“Let me help you with that.” He accidentally grazed her hand when he took the helmet from her. In the brief contact, Dren felt a surge of warmth enter his body followed by a feeling of familiarity. “Have we…” He stared hard into her eyes. “Have we met before?”
“A story for another time, Dren Arvol. When our safety is not at stake.”
“Right,” he said and lowered the Obscura helmet onto her head.
Using the suit-to-ship interface, Dren mapped out the quickest path between their location and the star docks, generating an overlay on his mini-map. For the moment, he knew the exact location of all Fleet personnel. They were represented by blue dots. 2.23 kilometers. Why is this station so big?
“I am ready.” Samara stood and waited for him by the exit. “You are hesitating.”
“The entire station is on alert and looking for us, and we have to traverse half the length of this base.” He sighed. “And we can’t use the maintenance shafts since there are none that will connect between here and the docks.”
“You must find us the most efficient path.”
“That’s what I’m doing. Can you do your telekinetic thing if we encounter more patrols?”
“My strength is still returning. Even in my weakened state, I shall dispatch your warriors if necessary.”
“Your confidence is inspiring.” Dren wondered how she got caught in the first place.
“I was betrayed.”
“Well, that answers that.” He removed the safety on his rifle. “Let’s move.”
She pushed his rifle down. “We should avoid killing more humans. They are not your true enemies.”
“I don’t want to kill any more humans if I don’t have to. But they won’t hesitate to kill us.” Dren opened the door and checked for patrols. “We’re clear.” He waved for Samara to exit.
Dren switched back to his speed neuromod to scout ahead.
Samara kept up with him without any artificial enhancements.
“How are you so fast?”
“We are genetically superior to humans in many ways,” she said without a hint of smugness.
They made it a quarter of the way to the star dock, avoiding all patrols before they ran into their first problem. “My mini-map went offline. They know I must be using it.”
“I can be your guide.” She moved in front of Dren. “Follow me.”
Dren did his best to keep up, barely maintaining her pace with his neuromod activated. According to his suit’s accelerometer, they were moving at a speed of 28 kilometers per hour.
Halfway to the star dock, they reached a chokepoint guarded by four marines.
“Stay behind me,” Dren said as he switched to arc rounds.
“No, I will handle this.” She pulled him back. “Come when I say so.”
“OK…” he said while watching her casually stroll toward the guards.
Three seconds later, Samara called for him.
Dren turned the corner to see her standing in front of the four guards. He immediately backpedaled. “You haven’t disarmed them!” he said over private suit comm.
“They cannot see us. The illusion will not last long. Come, with haste!” She passed through without so much as a glance in her direction.
Dren ran to her, careful to not accidentally graze and alert them.
“Shall we continue?”
“I’m following your lead.”
“It is the natural order of things.” Samara sprinted away.
The closer they got to the star docks, the more guards and checkpoints they came across.
“It’s like they know we’re heading toward the star docks,” Dren said breathing hard. “I wonder if all this is a trap somehow.”
“Do you believe Alyana Harrows to be deceitful?”
“I don’t know her. But I believe she has as much to lose as we do.”
“Then we continue on.”
After twenty minutes of running and dodging guards, they were finally in the home stretch. Dren saw the corridor that led to the star docks. At the end of the hallway was one last checkpoint. He recognized the soldiers guarding it; Kingston, Jann, Veillon, and Wyrick. Would they escape the indentured clone life with me? Was there any chance they would be punished for my crimes?
“We cannot bring them.”
“Why do you say that?” Dren pinched his lips together. He didn’t want to leave his friends behind.
“They are not like you.”
“What does that mean?” He scoffed. “They are like me more than anyone else I know.”
“They will not betray their leader.”
“You read their minds already?”
“Their eyes are not yet open to the truth. Their heart will not follow.”
Dren knew she was most likely right. Still, he thought it was worth the risk to ask them. If he could convince them to come, then he wouldn’t be alone in the coming struggles. They deserved to be free as much as any clone. “Can’t you make them see? You’re an empath aren’t you?”
“I will not. We must continue forward.” Samara cast her illusion on
them. “Where is the ship?”
Dren stopped in front of his squadmates and looked into each of their eyes. I’ll come back for you. I promise. He ran past Samara. “Follow me. We’re heading for ramp J34.”
As Alyana said, the ship was invisible. Dren dropped to his hands and knees and patted for the ramp with his gloved hand until he found something unseen yet solid. “Here,” he said, standing up. “Step carefully. There’s an invisible incline that leads onto a ship.”
“Cloaking technology. Perhaps there is hope for humans yet.”
Dren told himself not to look down, but he couldn’t help himself. Below him was a 5000-meter drop to his death. His legs stiffened as he tried to move.
Samara pulled him aboard. “You are supposed to be humanity’s strongest warriors, are you not?”
The feeling of vertigo disappeared as Dren crossed the cloaking field onto the ship. “I don’t know why I’m scared of heights. I’m not supposed to be.”
“Where is Alyana Harrows?”
“She’ll probably be on the bridge. This way.” Dren somehow knew where the bridge was on the Valor even though he had never been on anything bigger than a troop transport ship.
“Samara! Dren!” Alyana jumped up from the navigation console. “I had my doubts on both of you making it. But I’m glad you’re here.”
“Concern is written on your face, Alyana Harrows.”
“My administrative authorizations have been revoked.” She threw her arms up. “I’m locked out of the ship’s controls! I can’t release the docking clamps, and I can’t fire up the engines. If we don’t break the encryption in the next five minutes, then… Voids, are we screwed!”
Boom.
An explosion rocked the bridge.
“They know we are on the ship,” Samara said.
“I need more time!” Alyana rubbed her eyes with her palms.
17
The viewscreen on board the Valor showed a squad of marines forming a perimeter at gate J34. Four soldiers wheeled in a three-meter-long weapon with the rest covering them.
“It’s an EMP pulse gun,” Alyana said. “They’re going to disable the ship!”
