by James Palmer
“On second thought,” Straker grumbled, “maybe I will kill you after all.” He lunged toward her.
Leda slapped a button on the dais, and the magnetic field collapsed, the large, heavy probe teetering over and falling right onto Straker, pinning him to the ground. Leda drew her weapon and aimed it at his head.
“You…should know,” said Straker under the probe’s weight. “When that field…is deactivated…without going through necessary…protocols…an alarm is triggered.”
Leda stood there. Was he bluffing? She couldn’t be sure. Silo Six had alarms for its alarms. Even now a squad of MPs could be descending on her. She couldn’t afford to take the chance.
And she couldn’t kill Straker either. He wasn’t working alone, and the authorities can’t question a dead man.
Leda’s eyes darted around the room, her mind weighing her options. There was only one expedient course.
Lt. Leda Niles holstered her gun and ran.
“We could have…worked together,” Straker croaked behind her as he began shifting the enormous weight off his chest. She heard a heavy, metallic thud as he rolled it off of him. “Now you’re dead,” Straker called. “You hear me? You’re dead. All of you!”
Leda had to find someone in authority, someone she could trust. But not here. There was no one else currently on base who outranked Straker.
“Hamilton,” she breathed as she exited the elevator at the surface. She skirted round toward the rear of the building and darted through the maze of service structures and storage pods, while the sound of booted feet marched toward Silo Six. She had to reach the Artra system.
Leda paused long enough to watch a ship taking off on plumes of flame. Others stood nearby in various stages of pre-launch. Everyone was headed for the Artra system, where a new war with the Draconi was brewing. A war she knew Commander Noah Hamilton was desperately trying to stop.
Whether she got off this rock alive or not depended on what she did in the next few minutes.
“I’m coming, Noah,” she whispered, and ran toward the barracks.
Chapter 22
Swarm Song
“We’ve got it, Captain,” said Drizda. “Transmitting frequency now.”
“On speakers,” said Hamilton. “Broadcast it throughout the ship as well.”
Lt. Brackett touched a series of buttons, and a grouping of ethereal notes filled the air. It was completely alien, yet wholly beautiful, the notes lilting, haunting. Hamilton didn’t know what they were saying, but there was a definite feeling there. Of something. He hoped it resonated with the Swarm as much as it was with him.
At first there was no reaction. The Swarm kept up their programmed attack. The hatchery was almost gone, but the Draconi ship had signaled that they had successfully offloaded the eggs and were retreating with them to the Q-gate, vowing that they would send reinforcements to assist the Onslaught. Hamilton had little doubt that they would be too late.
But then the Swarm’s behavior changed. They halted their activities and just sat wherever they were, quietly, as if listening. Drizda tapped on her slate.
“It’s working,” she said. “The Swarm has fallen into some kind of rest mode.”
The bridge erupted in claps and cheers, which Captain Kuttner stifled with a wave of his hand. “We’re not out of the woods just yet,” he said. He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Drizda,” said Hamilton. “Can the Swarm machines that chewed their way on board be safely handled?”
“Unknown,” said the Dragon scientist. “They seem to be docile enough at the moment, but I’m not even sure what these Progenitor tones are doing to them.”
“What are you getting at?” said Kuttner.
“I’d like to hang onto one of them for study,” said Hamilton. “It might reveal a way to defeat them for good.”
“I’m no engineer,” said Drizda. “But I’d love to tear one apart, see how it works. There is much we could learn.”
Kuttner worked his jaw. “Fine. I’ll have a squad of Marines snag one and bring it to one of the repair bays. Keep transmitting that signal.”
“I’ve got it on repeat, sir,” Brackett assured him.
Kuttner sat back in his chair and exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. They just might get out of this after all.
“All decks reporting the Swarm probes are shutting down,” said Brackett.
“The probes outside the ship are doing the same, sir,” said Hudson. “Their power levels are flat-lining. It’s like they’re going inert.”
“Looks like we’ve finally caught a break,” said Hamilton. “Good work, Drizda.”
The Draconi scientist nodded, her eyes never leaving her data slate.
Hamilton thought he could hear a strange muffled thud coming from somewhere amidships.
“Sir,” said Brackett. “We’ve lost communications, both broadcast tightbeam and onboard comms.”
“What happened?” said Kuttner.
“Computer reports an explosion in the communications room.”
Hamilton and Kuttner exchanged wary glances. They both knew what that meant.
“Text message a fire crew,” said Kuttner. “Get it tamped down.”
“Fire suppression systems activated,” said Brackett. “Looks like the fire is out, but I’m texting an emergency crew now.”
“Sir,” said Hudson. “The probes are waking up. They’re starting to tear through the ship again.”
“Tell those marines to look alive,” said Kuttner. Text a warning to their slates. I want them to know this is not over.”
Hamilton got up and went to Brackett’s workstation. “Is there anything you can do to get our comms back online?”
Brackett shook her head. “No, sir. Everything was controlled out of that room. My console is just a relay station. We’re stone deaf.”
“Without our tightbeam transmitter we can’t pacify the probes,” added Drizda.
“I know,” said Hamilton. “I know.”
“I might know a way.”
Kuttner spun around. Gunner Cade was looking at him and the captain from his workstation.
“What is it, Gunner?” asked Kuttner.
“We can rig up an electromagnetic pulse. Use the magnets in the rail gun to fry the probes infesting the ship, and any who get too close to us out there.” Cade jerked a thumb at the viewer.
“Won’t that fry everything else, Lieutenant?” asked Hamilton.
“A few minor systems, sure,” said Cade. “But everything else is pretty heavily shielded because of the magnets. We’ll reboot the main computer as soon as the pulse has passed. We should be fine.”
“Should be?” asked Hamilton.
Kuttner held up a hand. “Do it, Mr. Cade. The way I see it we don’t have any better options. How soon can you be ready?”
“It’ll take me about ten minutes to set it up.”
“Go,” said Kuttner.
The young man jumped from his seat and exited the command deck.
“Do you really think this is a good idea, sir?” said Hamilton. “We’ll lose power, life support…”
“I don’t like it any better than you do, Commander,” said Kuttner. “But Cade is one hell of a weapons engineer. If he says we’ll be all right, we’ll be all right.”
“Of course, sir,” said Hamilton. He had seen Cade’s prowess, especially since this whole conflict began. He was just worried that they were burning through their stockpile of dumb luck at an enormous rate.
The wait was excruciating, especially since they had lost contact with the marines who were facing the swarm probes head on. Finally, Cade reappeared, sweat and grease staining his brow. A coil of wires was thrown over one shoulder. Without a word he went to his workstation and dived head first beneath it. In seconds he had a panel off and was halfway inside the control console, manipulating a glowing tangle of fiber optic wiring. At last he emerged. “Ready,” he said, panting.
Returning to hi
s seat, he called up a virtual control composed of a single large button.
“Ready when you are, sir.”
“Do it,” said Kuttner.
Cade hit the button. At first, nothing happened. Then the lights went out.
Chapter 23
Dutton’s Orders
Dutton was fighting for his life.
He had gotten cut off from his squad somehow, and sandwiched between two of the probes as they suddenly came back to life and resumed chewing their way through the ship, large metallic appendages somehow eating away at the metal bulkhead molecule by molecule until nothing was left.
Dutton yelled at them, but they paid him no heed. This angered him even more, and the big marine opened fire on one of them. He emptied an entire magazine into it before it was disabled. He reloaded and went after the other one.
Then a strange noise came over the ship’s communication system, flooding the corridor with alien noise. It was eerie, and Dutton couldn’t help but feel a little freaked out. But the probe still alive in front of him was slowing down, stopping.
The lizard bitch had done it. Dutton eased closer to the probe, his weapon still raised. He tapped it with the barrel of his gun. Nothing. But was it dead, or just sleeping?
“Sergeant Dutton,”
The sound of his name startled him, and he almost squeezed off a shot point blank into the skin of the now quiet probe. It took him a second to realize where it was coming from. It wasn’t the Captain’s voice, or Commander Hamilton’s.
Dutton reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a small, metallic black object.
“Dutton here.”
“How goes the battle?”
It was Colonel Straker.
“Fine, sir. The probes have infested the ship, but the dragon found the Progenitor tones that stopped them.”
“What?”
“They’re stopped cold, sir,” said Dutton.
“Well, that just won’t do at all,” said Straker. “I need them functioning.”
“But they were attacking us.”
“People get attacked in wars, soldier,” said Straker evenly. “Don’t get squeamish on me now. Not when we’re almost at the endgame.”
Dutton shook his head. “No, sir. Of course not, sir. I’m here for you as always.”
“Good,” said Straker. “Here’s what I want you to do. You’re going to kill that signal. I don’t care how. And then—and here’s the fun part—I want you to kill that alien. Think you can do that?”
Dutton considered the order. He was unsure why it was a good thing to have their ship—his ship, the ship he’d been sworn to protect—infested with alien probes. But Colonel Straker was his true commanding officer. Not that senile old man Kuttner, or his conceited lackey Hamilton, whom Straker had fired for insubordination.
What was the old saying? Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do or die. The soldier’s mantra since before Dutton’s great grandfather had left Earth to explore the stars.
“Of course I can, sir,” he said. “It will be my pleasure. Especially that last part.”
“Good,” said Straker. “You’ve done good work, soldier. Over and out.”
Dutton returned the object to his belt and considered how to accomplish his new orders. He looked down at the combat webbing strung across his armor’s carapace. In it were several small explosive devices. He began jogging toward the communications room, a huge grin on his face.
Chapter 24
Betrayal
They sat in the dark for far longer than Hamilton was comfortable.
At last the red emergency lights came back up, followed by everything else.
“Computer’s rebooted,” said Cade. “No apparent damage. Other ship’s systems are slowly coming back online. We’ve got full life support, artificial grav, the works.”
“What about weapons?” asked Kuttner.
“Particle guns are charged and ready,” said the gunner. “The rail gun will never fire again. Not unless it’s completely changed out.”
Kuttner scowled. That, he knew, would never happen. The Onslaught was due to be scuttled before this nonsense with the Draconi and the alien probes. Now it was fit for little more than spare parts for the derelicts in the orbital museum encircling Tethys B. “Very well. You did good, Gunner.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Cade. Hamilton thought the young man looked surprised that everything came back up, and more than a little relieved.
“What about the Swarm?” said Hamilton.
Hudson checked his readouts. “They’re dead, sir. The pulse got them good.”
“Well, that’s something at least,” muttered Kuttner. “Even if we had to almost cripple the entire ship to do it.”
“What about the Draconi vessel?” said Hamilton. “Did it make it out with the eggs?”
“Yes, sir. It’s almost through the Q-gate now,” said Hudson. “They were well out of range of the pulse.”
“Maybe they’ll put in a good word for us with their high command,” said Hamilton. “We just have one more problem.”
“Which is?” said Kuttner.
“Finding out what destroyed our communications.”
“It could have been the Swarm,” said Cade. “They’ve caused damage all over the ship. An essential area was bound to be affected.”
Hamilton pursed his lips in thought. “That’s possible. I suggest we investigate it, though.”
“Agreed,” said Kuttner. “In the meantime, we’ve got bigger fish to fry. For example, what’s our next move?”
“I’d like to examine one of the probes,” said Drizda. “If we can learn more about them we might find a way to stop them all permanently.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” said Hamilton. “Every ship in the fleet can’t just disable themselves with an EMP, and we can’t get the word out about the Progenitor tones without our comms working.”
“Right,” said Kuttner. “Go with her, Commander. Make sure she has whatever she needs. In the meantime, let’s make repairs and get our tightbeam transmitter back up and running.”
Hamilton glanced at Drizda, and together they stood to leave. “Lt. Brackett,” he said. “Text someone to find one of those probes and bring it to repair bay three for us.”
They left the command deck and began walking down the main corridor toward the middle of the massive vessel. The place smelled like burnt wiring, and the crew they encountered was either running to take care of some problem or limping to the med bay because they were injured. They found repair bay three right where it had always been, though it was just as disheveled as other areas of the ship, tools and equipment lying on the floor. In the center of the large room stood Sergeant Dutton, his boot resting on one of the Swarm probes, which was lying on its side.
“I got your message,” said Dutton, tapping his wrist slate. He eyed Drizda as he said it, which made Hamilton uneasy.
Dutton removed his foot from the probe’s curved side, his weapon down and slung across his chest.
Ignoring the big marine, Drizda knelt next to the probe, examining it.
“It really is quite beautiful,” she said, her long tail swishing back and forth. “Each unit is probably unique, created for specialized tasks. I would not be surprised if they were designed using an evolutionary algorithm.”
“You mean so they can adapt to their environment?” said Hamilton.
“Yes.” She tapped the skin of the machine with her talons. “I wish I was an engineer,” she said. “I could glean more from its inner workings if I were.”
“You can tell us more about the race who built them,” said Hamilton.
Her tongue flicked from her mouth. “Perhaps. They’re likely to be very different from their original design. Just as you and I differ greatly from the amoeba of our home worlds. I do not think the later Progenitors built them, though it was certainly an earlier offshoot of their race.”
Hamilton looked down at the machine. It was utilitarian, yet it had a c
ertain elegance about it. It reminded him of an octopus or a jellyfish. It also looked quite deadly. “I’ll get a couple of engineers down here, cut this thing open. Hopefully they can figure out what makes them tick.”
Hamilton knew some good engineers at Special Operations, but they were light years away. He thought of Leda, made a mental note to contact her as soon as repairs had been made.
That’s when his world exploded.
Something hard struck him in the left temple, and he saw stars as the deck rushed up to meet him. He shook his head to clear it, got clumsily to his feet in time to see Dutton with his weapon pointed right at Drizda’s head. Drizda stepped back into a crouch, growling low in her throat.
“What is this, Dutton?” said Hamilton, wishing he’d been carrying his sidearm.
“Just following orders, Commander,” said Dutton. “Like any good solider.”
“Orders from whom?”
Dutton didn’t answer as he pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.
Dutton scowled, pulling the jammed weapon from his shoulder and tossing it to the ground just as Drizda pounced, her long talons extended. They scraped nanocarbon armor as Dutton backed out of the way, drawing a long knife from a sheath on his belt.
“Stand down, Marine,” said Hamilton, with ice in his voice.
“No can do, Commander,” said Dutton, his eyes never leaving his opponent.
Drizda had dropped her slate to the deck and assumed a fighting stance. Gone was the rational scientist Hamilton had come to know and respect. Here instead was a steely-eyed predator that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He wouldn’t want to be in Dutton’s shoes. But the big Marine was well-trained and well-armed.
Hamilton almost tried to call for help as Dutton and Drizda circled each other, but he remembered the comms were down. If he was going to end this, he’d have to do it on his own.
“Dutton, you’ve been a good solider. You’ve got a promising career ahead of you. Don’t throw it away now.”
“Stay out of this, Commander.”
