UCSB Date 1003.171
Communications Bay 12, UCSBS Mercy, Nimbus System
Shedding. I can’t believe I’ve gotten so stressed that I’m actually shedding, Gokhead thought as he stared at the waveform again. He picked out another clump of fur, remembering the last time he’d shed this much. First annura college finals. I hadn’t learned stress management yet, maybe a little during Spec Op 101.
The waveform just sat there, mocking his efforts to finds its source or what data it contained. He didn’t look forward to reporting his failure to Tadeh Qudas either. The old Telshin had a violent dislike of the word can’t. What maddened Gokhead the most was that there was something familiar about the waveform. He’d seen it somewhere before or something similar to it. He just couldn’t place where.
“Have you found anything?” Tadeh Qudas asked, stepping into the work closet.
Gokhead shook his head. “Que-Dee and I are still coming up empty,” he replied, placing a hand on the boxy robot. “He’s been in analysis mode for a couple cycles trying to figure it out too; he hasn’t said a word.”
“What about our escorts? Are they seeing the waveform too?”
“It’s the same as at the academy. They’re all transmitting it, but there’s no source. And when we get together, it intensifies. There’s only two from our academy class on any of those ships and they don’t even know that they’re transmitting. As for the rest of the fleet; no clue. I’ve tried to see if it's riding any transmissions to and from, and checked the sensor logs from passing ships. It appears to be isolated to our group.”
“So, you still haven’t found a source?”
“No. I’ve scrubbed every communications nodes and antenna, it’s not passing through any of them. It’s the damnedest thing, and the waveform looks familiar. I just can’t place it.”
“What’s Que-Dee trying to do?”
“Waveform analysis. We hope that if he can identify the pattern that we can make something of this. Right now I’m working a theory that the waveform might be of Gorvian origin.”
Tadeh Qudas sat at a nearby console, crossing his arms. “How so?”
“We didn’t detect the waveform until after we’d found that Gorvian body. Maybe it was carrying some kind of computer virus. The question just becomes, how? It wasn’t radiating. All its equipment was long dead. We never even had a chance to dive into its computer systems.”
“I see. Something else concerns me. If we’ve eliminated the other officers of the ship as the vector for this signal, and it’s not the Gorvians, then that means someone in the squadron is controlling this.”
Gokhead nodded. He’d been trying not to think about that. “I know. But why? And how?”
“Cadets, especially those in Special Operations, are thoroughly vetted before they can join the program. Even then, we monitor cadet activities. Any spy in our midst would be detected.”
Gokhead scoffed. “No armor is impenetrable. You drilled that into us. Someone good enough would slip through.”
Tadeh Qudas nodded. “You’re right.”
The pair sat in silence for a long moment, the sounds of the equipment around them drowning out that of the rest of the ship. The waveform analysis on Gokhead’s screen then shifted and several new waveforms appeared. Gokhead didn’t recognize them at first. Que-Dee powered up. “I think I may have found something,” the Synthetic Sentient reported.
Gokhead stared at the screen. Two of the signal patterns were similar, but not identical. The last several were not even close. “What are these?”
“Shield frequency plots.”
Gokhead almost pounded his head into his console. “You have to be kidding me! Why didn’t I see it before? Then these other ones, leakage noise?”
“Yes, and engine interference. Combine them,” the signals on the screen combined to create a waveform that almost matched that of the mystery waveform. “You end up with something close.”
“Are these from the Mercy?” Gokhead asked.
“Yes, and the rest of the flotilla.”
“That makes no sense,” Tadeh Qudas commented. “Shield frequencies are unique to each ship and are kept Top Secret. How could the waveform intensify by ships coming together?”
Que-Dee turned to look at Tadeh Qudas. “I have not worked that out yet. It appears that the real signal is embedded within this waveform. Here I have it isolated.”
Gokhead stared at the new signal. It looked random, like noise, but a pattern did repeat at shifting intervals. “That’s an identifier code.”
“My thoughts as well,” Que-Dee replied. “I have yet to be able to decode it though. The bit rate is extremely high so whatever this is, it contains quite a great deal of data. Every algorithm I have tried to decode it with has returned nothing. They must be using a quantum flux code. I would need to upload this to the collective to process it without the key.”
“How serious a breach could this represent?” Tadeh Qudas asked.
“Very,” Gokhead replied. “The only saving grace is that this all on the EM band, so it’s light speed limited. Our spy must be bouncing off the jump buoy communications network. But even then, how? You’d have to be looking for it. And why? Natural radiation sources could scramble this easily enough.”
“True, but it is almost undetectable if you aren’t looking for it,” Que-Dee added. “It is fascinating to look at. I had no idea that biologics had come up with something so ingenious.”
“Admire it later,” Tadeh Qudas ordered. “If it’s somehow tied to the shields and the engines, can you track it down?”
Gokhead looked at Que-Dee then nodded. “Now that we know where to look, I think so.”
“Good. In the meantime, can you come up with some way to jam it?”
Gokhead scoffed. “That’s the easy part. Relatively. If it’s using the jump buoy comms I can insert a filter to cut off any signal with the ident code from being relayed.”
War Room, UCSBSB-162, Veglid System
“Yes sir. They’re treating me well,” the young Galactic Federation ensign replied. She sat at the head of the conference table with Admiral Quin Tosh and her staff, an unflattering hospital gown draped over her emaciated frame. “They say that I’ll be fit to travel soon. Maybe a week or two.”
“Ten cycles until your muscle mass will have replenished. It will be longer for your body’s fat reserves,” the doctor corrected her.
“I think I can live with lower body fat for now doctor,” she replied with a smile.
The Galactic Federation admirals in the hologram did not appear amused by the banter. Quin Tosh wished she could somehow curtail it without drawing even more unwanted attention. The Terran Admiral at the head of the board leaned forward with a concerned, grandfatherly smile. “What kind of questions have they been asking you Ensign McGee?”
The Ensign McGee glanced over at Quin Tosh then back at her commanders. “Only about the Gorvians. They asked where I was captured, but not about my ship or its mission. They just wanted to know how we’d been treated by the Gorvians, and what they wanted from us. To be honest. I don’t remember much. I couldn’t even tell you how long I’d been in that cell. There was no way to tell time.”
“That’s all right Ensign. You did your duty. You survived and took the opportunity to escape once it was presented to you. Now what of our dead?”
Admiral Quin Tosh shifted in her chair, straightening her tunic. “Unfortunately, the rescue team did not have space in their rescue pods to recover any bodies; Confed or Federation,”
“I see. So then there’s no way to determine their identities other than what the ensign remembers,” a Krad Admiral replied.
Quin Tosh was surprised to see a Krad amongst the Admirals. The Galactic Federation regarded them as a slave race. This one would have had to distinguish himself to attain any rank, even more to reach Admiral. “Our team conducted gene scans of every prisoner and body in the cell. We were able to identify all of our people from those readings.”
She declined to mention to the admirals, or the Blade Force, that most had been captured well before As’Tril. “We’ll be happy to share them with you. That way you can inform the victim’s families.”
“And the bodies?” the grandfatherly admiral asked.
“Per Confederation regulations, the team immolated them.”
The Galactic Federation admirals conferred for a moment with the sound off. Quin Tosh tried to read their body language, but it remained closed off. Some appeared upset, others relieved. Most were somewhere in between. The grandfatherly admiral turned to address the room again. “When the Confederation first told us about the Gorvians before the start of our war, we thought that they were boogeymen, something you’d made up to scare us. Our Pharad allies informed us of the nature of the Gorvian later. We avoided them of course.”
Quin Tosh nodded, and noted that no Pharad were present amongst the admirals. What strings are you pulling now?
“Over the centuries we’ve launched expeditions into Gorvian space. None have ever returned.”
“We’ve had similar experiences,” Quin Tosh replied.
“Like you, over the last few years we’ve recorded multiple Gorvian intrusions into our space. They’d killed thousands of us. If what your leaders are telling ours is true, then their recent movements threaten both our governments.”
Quin Tosh felt relieved to hear that. “They are such a threat Admiral. I agree.”
“Therefore, the Galactic Federation has authorized us to commit a portion of our forces to defeating the Gorvians. The Ninth and Twelfth Fleet have volunteered and will depart for Confederation Space soon to assist. They will coordinate with your efforts, but will not be under your direct command.”
“I understand Admiral. Who is currently in command of the Ninth Fleet? So that I will know with whom I am to liaise.”
“I will be transferring my flag there within the week.”
That took Quin Tosh aback. Admiral Craine wasn’t known as a tactician but as a negotiator. He’d been the head of the Federation’s diplomatic scouts for the last half-decade at least. To have him lead a fleet intended to push back such a formidable foe seemed odd at best, and sinister if she dwelled on it. Then again, his ability to negotiate might be just what they needed to coordinate the forces of their potentially adversarial fleets. “I see Admiral Craine. It will be an honor to serve alongside you. I’ll have my people transmit our local jump codes to you.”
UCSB Date 1003.203
Cargo Hold, UCSBSB-162, Veglid System
The impact slammed Blazer back into the wall of the cargo hold with enough force to buckle the inner hull. Under any other circumstance that impact would have shattered his spine, even in an ACHES. In the factory-fresh, new model MeG-CE, Blazer reacted as if shoved. He clasped hands around Arion’s forearm and spun him about before throwing him at the opposite wall. Arion recovered midflight and rebounded off the bulkheads, firing his thrusters just once to stabilize himself.
The move, and more so, the new MeG-CEs, impressed him. The old models were too clunky and the joints would bind under any maneuver even half that complex. These new units felt more like scaled up ACHES and, better, had almost no learning curve to adapt to. Only the scale of things reminded him of the unit’s actual size.
All about the cavernous hold the rest of the team practiced as well. These would be their mounts for any further excursions into Gorvian space. As the only team who’d used MeG-CEs in combat, they were the perfect testers. Zithe turned to engage Rudjick, his monomolecular cutters extended from both arms.
Zithe stopped, his left arm raised and his right ready to stab forward. He looked down at the one blade then back up at the other.
That could be a problem, Blazer considered. Even in an ACHES the body physically exerted itself. In these MeG-CEs it was all thought. The infuser bands kept them alert to an almost unnatural degree. Blazer backed his MeG-CE into its stand and checked his power supply. The unit could keep up at this pace for another cycle or two without recharge so long as he didn’t use weapons or thrusters.
Indicators sprang to life as umbilicals snapped into place on the MeG-CE’s back. A series of self-checks scrolled along, and when the last indicated blue, Blazer sent the shutdown command. He closed his eyes and when he reopened them found his helmeted head illuminated by the soft light of the control pod’s interior display. He sloshed about for a moment in the shock gel until it receded into the deck ports, then unfastened the six fittings that kept his restraint webbing centered in the control pod. Once freed, he reached up and keyed the hatch. The upper portion of the armored back split and lifted away to reveal the cargo bay’s overhead cranes.
Blazer climbed out and watched the rest of the team dock and evacuate their units. These MeG-CEs were superior to the old ones in every way. They no longer looked like they were carrying a baby on their chests. The old units, even the ones they’d used, had retained their old remote manipulators which left the operator's arms visible in their armored casings.
Fatigue washed over him as he attempted to stand. It felt worse than his first few times exiting out of the neurosimulation system. He needed to sit down or risk falling off the back of the mech. His whole world began spinning and he pulled his helmet off to get a breath of fresh air. He wished he’d left the helmet on. The bay stunk of animal droppings, but at least it cleared his head and brought things back into focus. Blazer stared down at the grass-covered floor and grimaced. The station’s farm was used as a grazing field, but the herds had eaten it down to the point that it needed reseeding.
“Shreg me,” Gavit called when he pulled off his helmet. “This place stinks worse than Porc’s cigars.”
Blazer shook his head, but still had to agree. “Let’s get cleaned up and then debrief up in the observation dome. It looked to have a cafe in it.”
Observation Dome 3, UCSBSB-162
Blazer couldn’t bring himself to eat his sandwich as it cooled on the plate before him. He just couldn’t muster up an appetite. The nutrient infusers in their link suits also included appetite suppressants and his had just begun to wear off. That at least gave him and the team time to discuss their thoughts on the new MeG-CEs. “Overall I’m impressed. They’re leaps and bounds better than the old models.”
“Better be,” Arion replied. “They’ve had two centuries to work it all out.”
Blazer shook his head. “That may be, but they’ve also hurried these units through to get them to us early. Do we have a gripe list?”
Rudjick’s hand shot up and he waved it about like he were flagging someone down. “Ooh ooh, me, here coach.”
Blazer just rolled his eyes and waved the elf to speak.
“I wish the back were more flexible. I can’t land a good backflip with just three spinal segments.”
Chris stared at him in dumbfounded silence for a moment. “You have to be kidding me. Of all the things you could say, that’s it? Sheol, it’s no worse than in a standard ACHES. And I don’t see you do that in those.”
“Actually, I do,” Rudjick smiled back. “But also, the ACHES’ back plates flex a little and can separate from your back enough to allow your spine to flex.”
Marda drew a quick sketch of the MeG-CE’s interior on her macomm, highlighting the pilot, and held it up. “So Rudjick, just which one of your limbs do you want to make double jointed to make that ha
ppen? Gokhead already has to mount in backwards to accommodate his physiology.”
“Which plays merry Sheol on my inner ear. I’ll need to have suppressants for that,” Gokhead noted.
Blazer nodded. “I think we all know the real reason Rudjick wants more flexibility in the MeG-CE. He wants to win Revolution Dance with one.”
Everyone had a good laugh and Rudjick tried to look innocent as he screwed up his face thinking about that. “You got me.”
Everyone laughed again and Marda handed Blazer a short list of issues. Most were medical in nature and didn’t seem to be anything too difficult to overcome. A gasp however drew his attention. He looked up to find a squadron of Galactic Federation Solaar fighters flying over the dome.
His hand flew to his sidearm in response before he remembered the Admiral’s briefing. The Galactic Federation were here to join them in their efforts against the Gorvians. It was still an unsettling sight to see the fighters so close up. Looking out the dome, he found the rest of the fleets. Confederation ships were escorting them, but there it was, over a hundred Galactic Federation capital ships and transports, with a cloud of fighters surrounding them. Leading the two fleets were massive several Barker class siege carriers. The massive ships could take and hold a planet by themselves and could even serve as naval aircraft carriers on captured worlds.
Blazer looked over at Matt. His fists clenched as he studied the four carriers. Even from this distance, Blazer could see that none of them possessed the triple bow of the class’ namesake. Instead, they all featured standard double bow. “The Barker’s not amongst them.”
“I can see that,” Matt hissed. “But some cycle.”
Blazer understood his pain. The Barker had led numerous strikes into Confed space in the last few cycles. One of those attacks had taken Matt’s fiancée and family when it had attacked their colony. Had it not been destroyed ten annura earlier, Blazer would keep a look out for the GFS Caleb, the ship that had destroyed the Vaurnel, his childhood home.
Armageddon's Pall: Spiral War Book 4 Page 15
