by Doug Farren
Even though it arrived only five seconds later, the rotation of the planet had moved Breetak’s base 2.4 kilometers closer to the point of impact. Twenty-three percent of the heavy cruiser had survived the attack and a large section of the ship weighing 12,429 kilograms, survived its microsecond passage through the atmosphere impacting the ground 1.1 kilometers from the base of the mountain. The result was a two gigaton explosion.
The impact gouged out a crater 12 kilometers in diameter sending millions of tons of debris high into the atmosphere and creating a shock wave that wiped out everything for thousands of kilometers. Protected by Breetak’s almost impenetrable shield, his ship, along with an enormous amount of rock, was hurled away from the point of impact.
The ship’s AI attempted to keep the ship from crashing but the forces at work were more than the drive system could overcome. During its four-kilometer flight, the ship rotated 132 degrees before crashing to the ground. The impact overloaded the ship’s internal gravity controls. The shield generator, mounted in the exact center of the ship, was torn from its mounts and thrown through three bulkheads before coming to a stop inside a fully powered matter/antimatter reactor.
The third ship, the Cantorish, arrived five seconds behind the Fe’Tunk completely intact. It blasted its way through the atmosphere and hit the surface as a single solid chunk with a mass of 93,742 kilotons. The effect was a blast with the power of a 14 gigaton bomb. The explosion opened up a hole through the planet’s mantel all the way down to the magma below.
The seismic wave of the impact radiated outward as well as through the solid surface of the planet, fracturing rock and generating an expanding wave of destruction that could have been viewed from space. Just over an hour later, the seismic waves converged on the far side of the planet, creating what geologists call an antipodal crater.
Debris from the impact rained down on the planet, setting fire to the dense forests for thousands of kilometers. Almost all life was wiped out and the surface of L103-021 was plunged into darkness as the atmosphere became filled with dust. The audible shock wave of the impact made two trips around the planet until it was finally silenced.
The impact triggered volcanic eruptions that poisoned the air with ash and sulfur dioxide. Tsunamis raced across the oceans crashing into the land obliterating everything in their path for hundreds of kilometers inland.
“Launch four probes,” Admiral Shurvith ordered. “I want to make sure Breetak’s ship is destroyed.”
“I don’t care what level of technology they have,” Churum said. “Nothing could have survived that.”
“We shall see.”
The probes revealed a radically changed world. Even though it was several hours after sunrise, the amount of light reaching the surface was practically nothing. Dust and ash reduced visibility to only a few meters. Infrared was virtually useless.
“Surface temperature—162 degrees C,” the science station reported. “Picking up high concentrations of sulfur compounds and higher than expected levels of carbon dioxide. Thermal scans indicate the presence of a large pool of lava directly below the probe.”
“Any indication of an artificial energy source?” Admiral Shurvith asked.
“No sir.”
“Perform a detailed survey of the area,” the Admiral ordered. “I want every square meter examined out to a distance of 20 kilometers.”
The Admiral remained on the bridge during the five hours it took the probes to perform a painstakingly detailed search for any evidence of Breetak’s ship.
“Recall the probes,” the Admiral ordered when the specified search area had been examined. “Comms, send a message to fleet command: The base on L103-021 has been destroyed. This has been confirmed via direct scans of the area out to a distance of 20 kilometers. The planet is no longer fit for colonization. Make sure you send a copy to Peacekeeper Wilks. Include the results of our search.”
“Yes sir.”
Admiral Shurvith turned to Captain Harth. “Set course for Jura-Kroona, standard cruising speed.”
“Yes sir. I’m glad this is over. We owe those peacekeepers a great debt.”
The Admiral’s tail twitched in annoyance. “I’m afraid it won’t be over for them for a very long time. They have a long recovery ahead of them.”
“Peacekeeper Wilks only injured his arm,” Captain Harth replied. “I was referring to Peacekeeper Krish.”
Admiral Shurvith’s tail crashed to the deck causing everyone on the bridge to look in their direction. “They are chuloogranack!”
“Peacekeeper Wilks is Terran,” Captain Harth replied. “I’m sure he does not fully understand- - -”
“His soul is Rouldian! If you doubt that then I suggest you ask him yourself. I would be more than happy to relieve you of command if you wish to take a leave of absence to explore your idea!”
Captain Harth bowed his head and laid his tail flat on the deck. “That will not be necessary Admiral. Please accept my apology.”
The Admiral glared at the Captain, then turned around and stomped off the bridge.
Chapter 31
Tom slept for an uninterrupted nine hours and twenty-seven minutes. He woke refreshed and very hungry.
“Computer, what is the current ship’s time?”
“Zero three eighteen Terran standard. You have a message waiting to be read.”
“Read it to me,” Tom ordered.
The computer read the message from Admiral Shurvith then added, “The message contains several video files.”
“Save for later.”
After performing the morning ritual, Tom headed for the ship’s mess. As he expected, he was the only one there except for the cooks getting ready to serve the crew breakfast which was due to start in a little over an hour.
“Would you like your usual?” Tom heard a familiar voice ask.
“Jiro! It’s good to see you again.”
A short man wearing a white apron, his jet-black hair covered in a net, appeared from the kitchen. He stopped in front of Tom, bowed slightly, then moved in for a hug.
“I heard you were on board again,” Jiro said, as they broke their embrace. “You look like you’ve just crossed a battlefield. What happened—or am I not allowed to ask?”
“Getting off L103-021 was a little more difficult that I anticipated,” Tom replied. “I’m starving, can you make it a double order?”
“Of course! Have a seat, I’ll cook it myself.”
“Thank you. When did you make Chief?”
“Six months ago.”
“Congratulations.”
Tom walked over to the coffee dispenser and punched up the strongest blend on the menu. Cup in hand, he walked over to one of the empty tables and took a seat. A few minutes later, Jiro arrived with a heaping plate of food. “Scrambled eggs with ham, green pepper, and cheese. Four slices of bacon—well done.”
“Thank you, Jiro.”
“It’s good to see you again,” Jiro replied. “I would like to join you, but I need to get the kitchen ready for breakfast.”
“I’ll make sure to look you up,” Tom said, picking up a fork. He scooped up a huge chunk of egg, popped them in his mouth, then made a humming noise as he nodded his head. “Perfect.”
Tom was half-way through his meal when Captain Scarboro, coffee cup in hand, joined him.
“Good morning Tom—you look refreshed.”
“Good morning. You’re not normally up this early, are you?”
“Not very often,” Captain Scarboro admitted. “I had the ship’s computer inform me the moment you were awake. Have you heard the news about Breetak’s ship?”
“I have. I haven’t seen the video evidence though. I’ll watch it later.”
“Breetak managed to vaporize most of the first ship. What was left ionized the atmosphere and threw up a large cloud of debris. We believe the second ship is the one that actually destroyed his base. The third arrived almost completely intact and obliterated everything. The planet will be u
ninhabitable for at least 15 years.”
“How’s Lashpa?” Tom asked.
“I checked on her condition as I was getting dressed this morning. No change. That’s good news though. She’s in good hands Tom.”
“I know that. But she’s really messed up. Most of her digestive tract has been removed and her spine is damaged. I’m hoping the Omel can fix her up.”
Scarboro looked down at his cup of coffee. “The Omel can’t work miracles Tom. From what I’ve been told, they might be able to restore her so she can live a more or less normal life, but her days as a peacekeeper are over.”
“Becoming a peacekeeper was a dream come true for her. If she can’t- - -” Tom picked up his coffee and downed what was left. He set it down a little too hard, breaking the ceramic handle off as it slammed to the table. “I’m sorry,” he said, standing up. “I need to be with her.” He nearly collided with a member of the crew on his way out.
Tom made his way to the infirmary and was escorted to Lashpa’s room. The gravity here was being maintained at one-third Earth normal. A Rouldian technician was seated in front of a bank of monitors. She turned her head and nodded. “There has been no change in her status.”
Tom pulled a chair as close as he could to the side of the medical pod and sat down. He put his forehead against the clear cover and stared at Lashpa’s closed eyes. Thirty minutes later, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw that it was Tharnth.
“There was a message from the Omel waiting for me when I woke up this morning,” the doctor said. “They are using a new technique and are printing her a new digestive tract.”
“Printing? You mean growing, right?”
“Actually, it’s a combination of printing and growing,” the doctor explained. “I asked them to send me the details of the process. The doctors on the Hoornah, the Omel medical ship we are heading for, requested all of Lashpa’s available medical data. They created a digital model of her entire digestive tract and have programmed a biological 3D printer to recreate it. My understanding is that it will be done by the time we arrive.”
“And they’ll be able to use it to replace what has been damaged?”
“This is relatively old technology, but something this large has never been attempted before. I’m familiar with printers that can create a single organ, but never anything that can recreate an entire system of organs. The printer they are using is capable of duplicating Lashpa’s DNA. It only prints a scaffold allowing the cells to be grown around it.”
“So, if this is successful, she’ll be as good as new?” Tom asked.
“No,” Doctor Tharnth replied, shaking his head. “The surgery required is incredibly complex and dangerous. There are risks. As her gra, you will need to be appraised of the risks and only you can approve the surgery.”
“How long can she be kept in her current state?”
“Two weeks perhaps, no more than three. After that, the odds of her regaining consciousness begin to decrease. Transferring her to this ship as soon as she was stable was an excellent idea.”
The doctor swung his head around and took a close look at Tom’s sealed wound. “You should have this looked at by your doctors.”
“They don’t have any experience with cybernetic implants,” Tom replied.
The doctor flicked his tongue out and touched Tom’s neck. “You taste better. I will be nearby if you have any questions.”
Tom leaned his forehead against the chamber. “Hang in there Lashpa. Please.”
Tom spent most of his waking hours and even some of his sleeping ones by her side as the Komodo Dragon burned a hole through space. He did manage to fulfill his promise and spent some time with Chief Jiro Yasui. Several of the crew he once served with came by, one-by-one, to offer their support. Although he was glad to see them, he really wasn’t in the mood to talk about old times.
Toward the end of the trip, Doctor Tharnth walked up and said, “Biomaster Arguoon would like to speak to you.”
Tom followed the doctor to a private office. “I will be monitoring Lashpa,” Doctor Tharnth said, then gently closed the door.
Tom walked around the desk and saw the elongated face of a patiently waiting Omel on one of the screens. “I am Thomas-ga-Lashpa Wilks-ga-Krish. You must be Biomaster Arguoon.”
“I am,” the Biomaster replied. “Our two ships will be docking in roughly four hours. I have been told that you have the authority to make informed decisions regarding Lashpa’s care. Is this correct?”
“It is.”
“I am required to explain the surgery that Lashpa Wilks requires as well as the risks. Once you are informed, it will be up to you to decide if we should proceed.”
“I understand,” Tom replied. Taking a deep breath, he added, “Go ahead.”
Biomaster Arguoon proceeded to lay out, in excruciating detail, what would be involved in repairing the damage the laser had done to Lashpa. The surgery would be long, very complex, and the risks were significant. The Biomaster also stressed that Lashpa faced a long recovery and her life afterward would depend greatly on how successful the surgery was. He offered no guarantees as to whether or not her damaged spine could be repaired.
“I know this is a lot to process,” the Biomaster concluded. “You do not have to render a decision now. You can- - -”
“I am authorizing the surgery,” Tom said. “Lashpa is a fighter and would want this.”
“I understand. Do you have any questions for me?”
“I’ve been told that it is not safe to keep Lashpa in her current state for longer than two weeks. When are you planning on waking her?”
“We will need to wake her as soon as the surgery is complete,” Biomaster Arguoon replied. “While she is in her current state of hibernation, her bodily functions are greatly reduced. Healing will also be very slow. Once the surgery is over, she will need to begin healing and that means she will need to be awake.”
“I want to be there when she wakes up.”
“I will ensure you are there.”
“Thank you.”
“You are also scheduled for surgery upon arrival. Your- - -”
“No!” Tom said. “My surgery can wait.”
“I’m afraid you do not have much of a choice in this matter,” Arguoon said. “I have received instructions from Peacekeeper Command concerning you. You should have received similar orders by now.”
Tom had indeed received a communication from Peacekeeper Command—he had ignored it.
“Your surgery will require far less time than Lashpa’s. I assure you, you will be at her bedside when she wakes.”
Although Tom did not like the idea of being away from Lashpa for any length of time, he did know that Biomaster Arguoon was correct. Despite the medication he was on, his shoulder had been in constant pain since Breetak had shot him.
“Alright,” he replied.
“Good. We will begin as soon as you arrive.”
Chapter 32
An Omel nurse was standing over him when he woke after surgery. The Omel are a very tall, thin race with nearly translucent skin. People meeting an Omel for the first time were often repulsed by the way they could see the veins, arteries, and even the muscles through their tough but transparent skin.
Seeing that Tom was awake, the nurse quickly turned and summoned a doctor. Biomaster Kintra, the individual who had performed Tom’s surgery arrived within minutes.
Tom was sitting up sipping on a glass of water when Kintra appeared in the doorway.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“A little groggy, but otherwise fine,” Tom replied.
The Biomaster glanced at the instruments monitoring Tom’s vitals then checked the screen displaying his chart. She pulled up a chair and sat down. “Your shoulder suffered serious damage,” she began. “The laser destroyed your neural interface as well as a number of critical nerves used to control the movement of your arm. Did you suffer a fall before removing your arm?”
“I did. How did you know?”
“There was additional damage to your neural interface consistent with an impact while your arm was connected but after you were hit with the laser. The impact tore the interface away from your flesh causing significant trauma. Why didn’t you have your shoulder looked at sooner?”
“I had other, more pressing, problems to deal with,” Tom replied.
“Your failure to do so may have caused irreparable damage,” Kintra replied. “We have infused your shoulder with drugs that will promote nerve growth. A new interface has been implanted and we are hoping your nerves will eventually reattach themselves to it. Frankly, the odds of success are not very high.”
Tom looked at his right shoulder. It was covered in a thick bandage. “So what’s the bottom line? Are you telling me I will never be able to use my arm again?”
“No. But your fine motor control and much of the feeling will most likely be lost. When the nerves have sufficiently regenerated, you will have to be fitted with a specially designed cybernetic limb that will serve you quite well. Your interface programming will have to be adjusted to compensate for the new neuron configuration. You should know that unless your nerves respond better than predicted, I can no longer certify you for duty as a peacekeeper field agent.”
Tom was silent for several seconds. “How is Lashpa’s surgery going?”
“Yours was significantly easier,” Biomaster Kintra replied. “She will be in surgery for at least another six hours, perhaps longer.”
“I want to be there when she wakes.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re there. Until then, please rest. If you have any questions, have the nurse call me.”
“Thank you.”
* * * * *
The first thing Lashpa saw when she finally opened her eyes was Tom’s concerned face. She opened her mouth to talk but her throat was so dry and sore that the best she could do was a grunt. A nurse approached and put a straw in her mouth. She took a small sip, wincing with the pain. Looking back at Tom, she saw tears running down his face.
