Messenger
Page 37
“Of course, Doctor. Such expertise will be invaluable for performing a biological analysis.” Lox turned to the others. “The rest of you, please wait outside. The analysis will go more smoothly without amateurs to interfere.”
Vic kept his grip on Astral. He looked Esther in the eyes and said, “I'm counting on you, Dr. Klein. I know you'll treat Astral with the respect she deserves.”
“Of course I will, Vic,” Esther said. “I care about what happens to her, too.”
Vic reluctantly released Astral into Esther's custody, then followed the others out of the biology lab. The door slid closed behind them, and Amos led them to a lobby with a transparent wall and ceiling that provided a spectacular view of the bottom of Inverted Sound. Vic got a snack and a drink from the vending machine and joined the others in seating themselves on luxurious sofas. They made themselves comfortable as they waited for Lox and Esther to complete their analysis.
As he chewed on a power bar and sipped at a soda, Vic's gaze drifted to Cena and Pierson. Although he had not heard one word of complaint from either of them about their injuries, they both wore pained expressions and seemed grateful to get off their feet for a while. Vic marveled at their toughness, soldiering on after suffering such wounds—especially Cena, who had been impaled by a weapon designed for cutting through military-grade vehicular armor. He could only suppose that she must have partially avoided the blow, as a direct hit would have sliced her in half.
Guntar interrupted Vic's contemplations by growling, “That Lox gets on my nerves. 'The analysis will go more smoothly without amateurs to interfere,' my ass. He reminds me entirely too much of Professor Harris.”
“Don't take it personally, Colonel,” Amos said. “He doesn't mean anything by it. He's just awkward with other people. Light's Edge is a terrible place for a man of his disposition to grow up.”
“As long as he can help us figure out a way to leverage Astral to hit the Union where it hurts, I'll put up with anything,” Guntar said. “After everything we lost to get our hands on her, it's going to take a lot to make up for it.”
Vic had to bite back a sharp retort. It irritated him that Guntar saw Astral as nothing more than a weapon. He cared nothing for Astral herself, and he showed no interest in trying to establish contact with the entity that communicated through her. Defeating the Union was all that mattered to him. It was obvious to Vic that, if he was going to learn more about Astral and her Voice, he would not be able to count on Guntar's help.
*
Over an hour later, Amos received a call from Lox that they were ready to report the results of the analysis. They returned to the laboratory and found Lox, Esther, and Astral waiting for them. Astral looked more tired than ever, with an unhealthy pallor and dark shadows under her eyes.
“Well?” Guntar prompted. “Did you find anything useful?”
“Lots,” Esther replied. “We had a bit of a scare when we analyzed her cellular structure. Her cells have the highest concentration of diffusion organelles I've ever seen. In other words, she's a Messenger.”
Guntar and Cena let out exclamations of alarm.
“It's all right,” Esther added quickly. “The diffusion organelles are inactive. She's not emitting any repil radiation. Her genetic sequence is stable, too. I can only assume that being an inert Messenger has something to do with her mental powers.”
“She's not going to activate, is she?” Guntar asked.
“I see no reason to believe that she will,” Esther said. “There's more. The foreign parts of her physiology seem to be operating at a lower metabolic rate than the rest of her body. I can't be sure, but I suspect that isn't normal. It's like her human and alien sides, if you want to call them that, are out of sync with each other.”
“What do you mean?” Vic asked in concern. “She's not sick or anything, is she?”
“This is just a hypothesis based on incomplete data,” Esther warned. “It was Dr. Lox who thought of it. Her diffusion organelles may not be emitting any radiation, but it's long been known that that isn't their only function. They're also capable of receiving repil radiation and converting it into chemical energy.”
“Are you saying she consumes repil radiation?” Vic exclaimed.
“There's plenty of circumstantial evidence to suggest it,” Esther replied. “Aside from her inactive diffusion cells, she complains that she can't hear the 'Voice' as clearly down here as she could in space. Chalice's atmosphere has been modified to block almost all repil radiation. In space, even with radiation shielding, we're exposed to a lot more of it. It's possible that her Voice actually is repil radiation; or perhaps that the radiation is a medium for transmitting the Voice.”
“Is something like that even possible?” Amos gasped.
“Why not?” Esther replied. “She describes her powers as sensing and manipulating waves. If she's been modified with an extra sense to detect repil radiation, then calling it a Voice may be a very apt description of it.”
“What will happen to her if she doesn't get any radiation?” Vic asked.
“I don't know,” Esther said. “Even here on Chalice, a little bit of repil radiation reaches the surface, so she isn't completely deprived. The chemical activity of her foreign components doesn't seem to be critical to her survival. I think it just means that her powers are diminished down here.”
Pierson put a hand to his chin and stroked it thoughtfully. “Then her abilities might be even more potent outside of Chalice's atmosphere. Interesting.”
“I'm still not finished.” Esther's lips turned up in a self-satisfied smile. “I think you'll like this next part. Were you aware that the Union's genetic engineering labs always tag the cells of their products with serial numbers to identify their lab of origin?”
That caught everyone's attention.
“Astral is no exception,” Esther continued. “Her manufacturer is labeled as the Ajna Station Planetary Radiation Research Laboratory. We looked up Ajna Station in the database, and apparently it's an old colony from the early days of Chalice's settlement, located in a hollowed-out asteroid in high orbit.”
“Then that's where Astral was created?” Pierson asked.
“Probably,” Esther nodded. “If we can infiltrate the lab, we might be able to find all the data we need to unravel this mystery, including the full scope of Astral's powers and what the Union was trying to accomplish by creating her.”
“But if it's in high orbit, how could we get to it?” Vic asked. “Our spaceship was destroyed when we came down from Port Osgow.”
“Oh, that's not a problem,” Amos replied. “We have a spaceship of our own.”
“What!” Guntar exclaimed.
“Oh, sorry, did I forget to mention that?” Cena said. “She was stolen from a Union shipyard. She's an experimental ship designed as the ultimate multi-purpose vessel, capable of operating underwater, in the air, and in space. Her name is the Skyfish.”
“Where the hell do you hide a spaceship?” Vic asked.
“Right here,” Amos replied. “In a hangar underneath the sound.”
“Well then, what are we waiting for?” Vic exclaimed. “It sounds like this lab holds all the answers we're looking for.”
“Hold your horses, kid,” Guntar said. “Infiltrating a Union research lab is no simple task. That's going to take some preparation. Besides, we still need to meet up with the rest of our unit at sundown and figure out how we're gonna billet so many uninvited guests.”
“I can help with providing lodgings for your troops,” Amos offered. “The people of Light's Edge are very sympathetic to SLIC's cause. We should be able to arrange for your men to stay with the locals temporarily until we can figure out a more permanent arrangement.”
“That would be a great help, thank you,” Pierson replied.
“Then, could I have leave to visit my folks?” Cena asked. “It's been a long time since I've been home. I'd appreciate the chance to stay with them tonight.”
“Request granted,” Guntar said
. “Fighting for SLIC is dangerous work. Your family will be glad to know you're safe.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” Cena said.
“If we're going to infiltrate this laboratory, we'll need a plan and a team,” Pierson said. “Shall I coordinate with Colonel Lane to work out the details?”
“Knock yourself out,” Guntar replied. “Infiltration ops are your forte.”
“Excellent.” Pierson turned to Amos, grinning devilishly. “Then let's figure out how we're going to crack this nut.”
47
Lambda entered the sick bay and made her way to the augmentation maintenance lab. Inside, she found a lab technician making some adjustments to the maintenance pod and the doctor standing at a nearby console, typing in commands. The doctor looked up as Lambda entered the room and stepped away from his console.
“Lieutenant Lambda, punctual as always,” he said. “Let's see, when you called to make an appointment, I believe you were complaining of memory loss?”
“That's right, Doctor,” Lambda replied.
“That's very unusual,” the doctor said. “When implanting neural augmentations, the engineers take exquisite care not to cause any damage to the preexisting neural network. Still, we'll have a look and see if we can find the source of the problem. Do you have any other symptoms?”
“No.”
“Very well. There may be some kind of bug in the firmware. If so, a simple integrity check will spot it. Pritchard, are you finished with those adjustments on the pod yet?”
“Almost, sir. Just need to finish the integrity check on the bootstrapper... and, done.” The technician straightened up and gestured to the pod. “It's all yours, Lieutenant.”
Lambda climbed in the maintenance pod and reclined against the uncomfortable plastic bedding as the canopy swung closed. Several diodes rose from behind the headrest and attached to her head while numerous lights flashed inside the pod as the scanners went to work. She waited patiently while the system ran through its initial checks.
“Cursory scan shows no abnormalities,” the doctor's voice crackled over a set of speakers inside the pod. “Not that I expected it to. If you're having memory issues, we'll have to go a little deeper to find the trouble.”
“Is the program modifier running now?” Lambda asked.
“Yes, it just finished initializing,” the doctor replied.
“Perfect.”
Lambda rammed her fist into the canopy, shattering it with one crushing blow and sending broken shards flying through the room. She climbed out of the maintenance pod, took three unhurried steps to the terrified technician, then grabbed him by the collar, pulled his torso down, and delivered a chop to his occipital ridge. His unconscious body crumpled to the floor with his limbs sprawled at awkward angles.
“That's impossible,” the doctor gasped. “You're programmed not to attack your allies.”
“Unfortunately for you, that restriction was overridden down in Hongpan,” Lambda replied.
“What are you planning to do?” the doctor stammered.
Lambda walked around the counter toward the doctor, backing him against the wall. “I'm going to cut the strings that you've used to make me dance for you,” she said. “Or rather, you're going to cut them for me. Man your console, Doctor. The maintenance is only beginning.”
“I can't,” the doctor sputtered. “If I'm found guilty of aiding a rogue augment, my career—”
“You're worried about a court martial?” With her expression still frozen in its emotionless mask, Lambda grabbed the doctor by his collar, raised him over her head with his feet dangling in the air, and slammed him against the wall.
“What's more frightening to you?” she asked. “A dishonorable discharge? Or having your throat torn out?”
“I didn't make you like this,” the doctor choked. “It was never my idea to turn our augmentation technology to producing super-soldiers. I'm only following orders.”
“I didn't come here to listen to excuses.” Lambda flung the doctor against the console so hard he bounced off it and sprawled onto the floor. “Man your console. If I have to ask again, I'm going to stop being nice about it.”
The doctor pushed himself to his feet and, with trembling hands, typed in the command to bring up the main menu. “What do you want me to do?”
“Write a new firmware overwrite configuration,” Lambda said. “The parameters are simple. Wipe everything. Clear all directives. Don't think of trying to slip anything extra in there. I'm watching every move you make, and I understand this software well enough to know if you're trying to trick me.”
The doctor did as he was ordered. For such a simple configuration, the process took only moments. When he was finished, he asked in a trembling voice, “Now what?”
“Compile it in nanomachine production mode,” Lambda commanded.
“It will take at least ten minutes to produce the solution,” the doctor said.
“I don't care. Just do it.”
The doctor complied. The counter vibrated as the machinery inside began producing the requested solution.
“While we're waiting, let's go to storage and get out the nutrient solution and linkage fluid counteragent,” Lambda said.
She followed the doctor to the storage locker, where she took a bag out of her pocket, tossed it at the doctor's feet, and ordered him to place everything inside it. As the doctor extracted vials of nutrient solution and counteragent and placed them in the bag, Lambda swept her gaze over the contents of the shelves and spotted a collection of samples labeled “Subj. 778.”
“Wait,” she commanded. “Those samples labeled 778, are those cells from a modified human subject?”
“Yes,” the doctor replied.
Lambda's mind raced. “Do they contain the signature of the manufacturer?”
“Yes.”
“Where were they produced?”
“Ajna Station Planetary Radiation Research Laboratory,” the doctor said. “It's strange, because that station was abandoned after some kind of industrial accident, and I've never heard of a lab by that name.”
A new plan was forming in Lambda's mind. “Finish filling up the bag,” she commanded.
The doctor finished filling the bag, then handed it to her. As she tied the bag to her belt, he pleaded, “Please don't kill me. I swear, it was never my intention to—”
Without a word, Lambda grabbed the doctor's collar and pulled it tight enough to cut off the flow of air through his windpipe. His face turned blue and his mouth opened and closed in a futile effort to suck in air, until finally he passed out from a lack of oxygen. Lambda released him and let his unconscious body crumple to the floor. She looked down at him in disgust, then returned to the maintenance lab and waited for the nanomachine manufacturer to finish producing the firmware overwrite solution. Once it was finished, she injected herself with the solution and left the sick bay.
*
In the Onyx Down's hangar, the chief mechanic looked up in surprise at the sight of Lambda in her flight suit coasting out of the elevator. In response to the mechanic waving her down, she pushed off the floor toward the scaffolding where he was working. As she sailed past the scaffolding, she grabbed hold of one of the beams to stop herself.
“What's up, Lieutenant?” the mechanic asked. “I haven't heard anything about a sortie.”
“Load up one of the Arrow-3s with a Black Wind long-range super-orbital module,” Lambda ordered him. “I'm going out.”
“I wasn't informed of this,” the mechanic objected.
“I've been given a special mission,” she said.
“Hold on.” The mechanic grabbed the comm off his belt. “Let me check this with the bridge.”
“They won't know what you're talking about,” Lambda replied. “This is a priority-one order straight from Commodore Falsrain.”
“The commodore?” The mechanic hesitated at the thought of disturbing Falsrain. “Still, I'd better confirm this. I'm going to check with him.”
“He's not picking up.”
“The commodore doesn't wish to be disturbed right now,” Lambda said. “This is an important mission. We're wasting time.”
“This is very irregular.” The mechanic looked hard at Lambda and the suspicion in his expression softened. “Still, you auggies are like, hard-wired to never disobey orders or something, right? I guess it'll be fine.”
“Hurry it up,” Lambda said. “I haven't got all day.”
Lambda backed off to the edge of the hangar and watched as the mechanics readied a Black Wind add-on pack and began attaching it to one of the Arrow-3s: first an enhanced E.C.M./E.C.C.M. suite over the head; then a pair of rocket clusters with attached missile pods on the shoulders; then a second pair of rocket clusters on the legs; and finally two colossal rail guns, one for each arm. Once they were finished loading the weapons, fueling up the engines, and configuring the system, the chief mechanic waved to Lambda.
“She's all yours, Lieutenant,” he called.
Lambda returned the mechanic's wave, then pushed off from the floor and headed for the enhanced Arrow-3. She flipped inside the cockpit, fastened the restraints, closed the canopy, and activated the startup cycle. As the systems came online, she checked to make sure her weapons were active, then turned on the loudspeaker.
“Everyone evacuate the hangar immediately,” she announced. “I'm going to destroy everything. I repeat, evacuate the hangar immediately. You don't want to be in here when I open fire.”
A flurry of incoming transmissions appeared on Lambda's screen. She ignored them and instead watched to see what the mechanics were doing. Some of them were evacuating, but others were heading for various pieces of hangar equipment. It seemed a demonstration of her determination was in order. She raised the left rail gun, took aim at a Slayer drone docked on the far side of the hangar, and pulled the trigger. An electromagnetically-accelerated slug burst from the weapon's barrel and instantly pulverized the Slayer, as well as blowing a large hole in the bulkhead behind it.