Fire and Brimstone (Chaos of the Covenant Book 2)

by M. R. Forbes

  Airi’s eyes were lingering on her body again, but Abbey didn’t let it bother her. She opened her locker, grabbing a pair of panties and a fitted shirt, putting them on before slipping the softsuit over it.

  “Are you still planning to switch quarters and bunk with Erlan?” Abbey asked, flipping the more conventional clasps that held the armor on.

  “No,” Airi replied. “I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier. I don’t envy what you’ve been asked to do. Or the burden you have to bear.”

  “Apology accepted. If you’ll excuse me.” She grabbed the helmet from her locker and moved to pass Airi.

  Airi reached out, putting her hand on Abbey’s arm. “Queenie,” she said, hesitant. “I.”

  Abbey paused, looking at her. “You were checking me out that time?”

  “What? No. I-” She paused again. “Never mind. It isn’t important. Do you need anything else from me?”

  “No. Thank you.”

  Airi bowed slightly and left the armory. Abbey watched her go, wondering what she had decided not to say. Then she left the armory as well, returning to the Construct module. Ruby had already disassembled the shell of the salvaged computer and hooked it into the Construct’s server.

  Abbey put on the softsuit’s helmet, the data connectors snapping into place near her ear. She tapped her fingers on the thigh of the armor, bringing up a command line. Then she took a wire from one of the tightpacks and fed it from the helmet out to the computer.

  “Do we have access to Milnet?” Abbey asked.

  “Yes, Queenie.”

  “What clearance?”

  “I have Captain Mann’s credentials and full security clearance. What do you need?”

  “Breaker tools. There’s a standard package available on the HSOC network. Once we pull it in, I can update this suit’s software and run diagnostics on the mainframe we recovered.”

  Ruby opened the server’s main terminal, her hands working the projection. Abbey saw the raw source code move along her helmet’s HUD, scrolling through the instructions as the synthetic opened Milnet and quickly navigated into HSOC, using Olus’ clearance.

  “The Republic will think Captain Mann accessed this data,” Ruby said. “They’ll be wondering why he downloaded Breaker software.”

  “He’s a smart guy. He’ll come up with a decent excuse. I can take it from here.”

  Abbey navigated the network, going directly to the package and initiating the download. It was done within a few seconds, and she quickly loaded it into the softsuit, her HUD going dark when the armor’s operating system reset. When it came up again, she had a whole new suite of tools at her disposal, as well as direct access to the Heavyworks mainframe through the Construct server.

  “Let’s see what we’ve got,” she said, transferring her activity to the projection so Ruby could see it as well.

  She used the command line to try to access the mainframe, immediately running into a data corruption error. She ran a few more commands, trying to get a feel for the cause, before accessing one of the tools in the softsuit’s system on a chip. It was a high-level tool, meant to try to replace missing data at the root, filling it in with random blocks in order to pull something out of the damage.

  It took a few minutes to run, and then she was rewarded with a response from a directory request, uncovering a series of folders. Most of them had characters missing from the names here and there, replaced with question marks or exclamation points. She noticed one that read ‘?ro!ec! Co?en!nt.’

  “Project Covenant?” Ruby asked, taking note of the same directory.

  Abbey tried to access it. The command line spit out ‘access denied.’

  She wasn’t surprised.

  “Password protected,” she said. “That’s why we needed the Construct server.”

  She ran another tool, allowing her access to the server’s powerful processing unit. It wasn’t on par with the mainframes they had in the HSOC or even the machine she had been using on the Nova, but it was hearty enough that it wouldn’t take overlong to brute force the security. She triggered the command, the lines a blur as it tried trillions of combinations of letters, numbers, and special characters per second.

  “How long do you think it will-”

  Ruby didn’t get to finish her sentence. The lines stopped scrolling, the directory opening in front of them.

  “About that long,” Abbey said.

  “Why does anyone bother password protecting anything when you have tools like that?”

  “Normally a box like this one would be buried behind a biometrically secured armored hatch. Thraven already did us the favor of breaking it out into the open. Some data sources use layers of authentication, but I don’t think Emily Eagan was all that concerned with this kind of security. She didn’t believe Captain Mann would ever figure out it was her.”

  She stared at the contents of the directory. The damage to the data was worse here, and even her scrubbers didn’t leave much of it discernible.

  “That one,” Ruby said, pointing to a subdirectory labelled ‘E!y?!u? Gat?.’

  “Why that one?” Abbey asked.

  “The second word. G-A-T question mark. Replace the final letter with something that fits.”

  “Gate?” Abbey said, running through the letters. It seemed as good of a lead as any. She drilled down into the directory.

  There were files in it. Dozens of files. Her tools could recognize they were there, but most of them were corrupted, only able to be displayed as solid lines taking up a row on her HUD.

  “You retrieved the data chip as well,” Ruby said.

  “If I were back in HSOC HQ I could run deep forensics on this and try to pull something out. Out here? Not a chance.”

  “There’s one file that isn’t completely corrupted,” Ruby said, pointing out a line near the center that read ‘----?---.’

  “One character?” Abbey said. She didn’t think it would give them much, but she executed the file.

  The projection changed, giving them a half-composed three-dimensional view of something she didn’t understand, but could easily infer into a complete shape. A loop of some kind. Or a gate.

  “That isn’t the Fire or the Brimstone,” Abbey said.

  “A gate,” Ruby said. “A gate for what?”

  Abbey tried to manipulate the schematic. The file crashed, her command line displaying a fatal error. She tried to open it again, and it refused.

  “Damn it,” she said. “I think that’s the only look we’re going to get.”

  “I’ll get a snapshot of it from my memory banks,” Ruby said. “You’ll have to hook into my diagnostic port to retrieve it.”

  “Where’s the port?” Abbey asked, looking at Ruby.

  Ruby reached up, digging a finger into the space behind her left eye and pushing it out. The motion revealed the mechanics behind the synthetic skin, and a small round hole a little off-center from the lens of the camera that was her eye.

  “I almost forgot you aren’t flesh and blood,” Abbey said. She disconnected the softsuit from the Construct server and reconnected it to Ruby.

  “You can remove the pleasure synth programming and reset me from here as well, but the restart will take hours.”

  “I need you with the team.” She found the snapshots Ruby had taken and stored in her memory banks. Some of them surprised her. “You took pictures?”

  “The clients requested them. Some of them enjoyed seeing themselves from my perspective, after.”

  Abbey found the schematic and transferred it to the suit.

  “Did you like being in a pleasure house?”

  “Like?” Ruby replied. “My emotions are simulated, Queenie. I don’t understand the concept of like.”

  “Do you prefer being on the Faust?”

  “I don’t understand preference.”

  “What about loyalty?”

  “I am programmed to be loyal to Captain Mann first, and to this crew second.”

  “Would you die
for us?”

  “I am not alive, and therefore I cannot die. However, I would gladly take critical damage to save any member of this crew.”

  “How can you do it gladly, if you don’t have emotions?”

  Ruby paused a moment. “They are simulated.”

  Abbey pulled the connecting wire. “Does that make them less real?”

  “I don’t know how to answer that,” Ruby replied.

  Abbey opened the image of the gate. It was impossible to get an idea of the scale or purpose from the schematic. Still, she would get it over to Olus when she had the chance.

  “How long until we reach Anvil?” she asked.

  “About an hour,” Ruby replied.

  “Have the Rejects assemble in the CIC in thirty minutes. We have a war to plan.”

  26

  “Gloritant, sensors are picking up a disterium trail, and a full plume nearby,” Agitant Sol said, keeping his head forward.

  “Bring us out of FTL,” Thraven said, his orders going out to all of the ships in his small fleet. “Adjust course to intercept. I want to see what my ships can do.”

  He was standing on the bridge of the Fire, in front of the command station, arms folded behind his back. A pair of Immolents flanked the station, still and silent, observing the activity on the bridge.

  “Coming out of FTL,” the Agitant said.

  The universe came back into focus in a cloud of reddish gas, the disterium dispersing now that it was no longer being contained.

  “Sensors are picking up a Republic border guard,” Agitant Malt said. “Twenty ships. Mostly light cruisers. There’s also an Outworld guard within a few AU of them.”

  Thraven looked at the projection in the front of the bridge, ahead of the viewport. He had expected a build up of assets this close to Anvil. Neither side had disappointed him. Then again, he had been hoping to test the Fire against something a little more dangerous than light cruisers.

  It would have to do.

  “Three and four, engage cloaking systems. One and two, you’re with me.”

  He hadn’t bothered to name his new ships. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. Their value was in their firepower, not in the souls who had perished in their making, or in the souls that were on board now, fighting his fight with him. They were all Lesser. They existed to serve.

  “Yes, Gloritant,” came the reply from the Honorants in command of the ships. He observed the projection, watching two of his warships vanish from their sensors.

  “Gloritant, it appears the Republic has identified us,” Agitant Sol said.

  “And?”

  “They are coming about, your Eminence.”

  “We’re receiving a hail, Gloritant,” Agitant Malt said.

  Thraven smiled. He wasn’t ready to reveal himself to the Republic. Not yet.

  “Your Eminence, we have torpedo lock on the lead cruiser,” Honorant Piselle said.

  “Fire,” Thraven said. “One and two, lock and fire.”

  “Yes, Gloritant.”

  The torpedoes from the ships were like streaks of light, crossing the distance so quickly the Republic ships had no option to evade them. They struck their targets within seconds, huge detonations causing quick flashes of burning air from the stricken ships before flaming out and leaving behind a new field of debris and a broken ship.

  “Bring us in closer,” Thraven said. “Give them a chance to fight back.”

  “Yes, Gloritant.”

  He had to put his hand back on the command station to hold himself as the Fire accelerated, crossing the gap between the two forces within seconds. Then the Fire slowed, leaving them in the midst of the Republic fleet.

  “We’re taking fire,” Agitant Malt said.

  Thraven could see the flashes from the cruisers’ guns, along with the trails of their torpedos. The shields on the Fire flashed like lightning as they absorbed the impacts, taking the attack and shrugging it off.

  “What is the status of the shields?” he asked.

  “Shields are holding steady, your Eminence,” Piselle replied.

  “Return fire. Save the torpedos. They are costly to manufacture.”

  “Yes, Gloritant.”

  The Fire began to spew plasma and projectiles from around it, each of the weapons enhanced by the Blood of Life. They tore into the Republic ships’ shields, reaching through and punching into the armor.

  Thraven watched the projection, noting that one and two had taken a flanking position on either side of the fleet while the Fire traveled down the center. They were striking the outer formation, the Republic ships blinking off the screen one after another.

  “Disterium plumes detected, Gloritant,” Agitant Sol said. “They are retreating.”

  “Cease fire,” Thraven said. “Let them run. There is nowhere for them to hide for long.”

  “Yes, Gloritant.”

  All three ships stopped firing on the Republic cruisers. Of the original twenty, only nine of them were able to blink away.

  The rest were left hanging silently in space, venting atmosphere and equipment, lifeless and dead. The Fire sat in the center of the destruction, stationary as the debris hit the shields and evaporated.

  “Have the Outworld ships reacted?” he asked.

  “No, Gloritant. They have remained in position, observing the battle.”

  “This was no battle, Agitant,” Thraven said. “It was a slaughter, as it was intended to be. As it was promised in the Covenant.”

  “Yes, Gloritant.”

  And this was with only three active ships. Once he had completed them all, there would be nothing that could stop the Great Return.

  “Resume course to Anvil,” Thraven said. “I will return when we have arrived.”

  “Yes, your Eminence.”

  Thraven turned and walked toward the exit to the bridge, the Immolents moving in behind him. He couldn’t wait to share the good news.

  27

  Gorix’s facility was well-hidden from prying eyes. After entering the alley in a fog of steam, Dak led Ursan through a worn metal door and into a warehouse. It was populated with the poorest residents in the city and smelled like urine, drugs, and cheap food. The sight and scent elicited an angry sigh from him.

  “He brought Trin here?” he said.

  “Through here,” Dak replied. “Not to here.”

  “Damn roaches. They love the cool, dark places, don’t they?”

  Dak didn’t answer him. Ursan knew his friend was getting tired of him. He knew he had been impossible the entire time he had been waiting to go and see the bot-maker. He couldn’t help himself. He wanted her back. He needed her back. It was all he could think about. It was all he cared about.

  They moved to a stairwell in the corner of the warehouse, descending five floors to a landing. Ursan moved to open the door at the bottom, but Dak put his hand out to stop him.

  “Not through there, Boss,” he said. “You don’t want to go through there.”

  “Why not?”

  “There are things that are illegal, and then there are things that are wrong. What happens through there is wrong.”

  A scream sounded from beyond the door, accenting his point.

  “Why doesn’t anyone stop it?”

  “Because nobody cares about how clean the heels of their boots are.”

  Dak turned and knocked on the wall behind them. It slid aside a moment later. One of Gorix’s guards was standing behind it.

  “Dak,” he said. “And the other one.” He glanced at Ursan. “Gorix has been waiting for you.”

  They moved through the hatch, which immediately closed behind them.

  The corridor had been roughly hewn into the bedrock that supported the city above, a three-meter diameter tunnel that traveled another fifty meters in before expanding into a complete network of tunnels and chambers. Ursan knew Plixians lived underground on their home world. He hadn’t expected them to do the same on other planets.

  “Captain Gall,” Gorix said, meeting hi
m at the entrance to one of the chambers.

  A smaller creature the size of Ursan’s hand sat on Gorix’s top left shoulder. It was generally humanoid in shape, with thick, mottled skin that resembled stone and overly flat features.

  “This is the associate I mentioned to you,” Gorix said. “Villaueve.”

  Ursan nodded to the Lrug.

  “You’re a long way from home,” he said.

  “It’s a small universe,” Villaueve replied with a laugh. His voice was like tinkling bells.

  “Villaueve is a nano-mechanical engineer,” Gorix said. “His expertise is ninety percent of your expense.”

  “Is there anything you can do for her?”

  “Come to my workshop,” Gorix said.

  Ursan followed the Plixian in. The workshop was spotless and neatly organized, with thousands of parts arranged in bins along the wall, and numerous works in progress resting at a half dozen stations situated across the floor. His eyes danced around the space, unable to rest until they found Trin, suspended in a liquid of some kind.

  “What did you do to her?” he growled, pushing past Gorix and rushing to the station.

  “It is an electrochemically charged preserving gel,” Villaueve said. “The cranium was in the process of decomposition when I was brought in. The first order of business was to stop this loss of state before it did irreparable damage to the nerve endings. It is bad enough the brain was deprived of oxygen for days before I arrived. This gel should help undo some of that damage.”

  “You’re saying you can help her?” Ursan asked.

  “When did I say that?” Villaueve replied. “I said I am trying to undo some of the damage that was caused by improper handling. If you had placed her in a preservative when the accident occurred, her prognosis would be much better.”

  “You’re saying this is my fault?” Ursan said, getting angry. “It wasn’t a fragging accident. She was murdered by a Republic bitch.”

  “Boss,” Dak said. “Calm down.”

  Ursan shook his head in an effort to clear it. “So, what’s the status? Can you fix her, or can’t you?”