The Broken Cage (Solstice 31 Saga Book 2)

by Martin Wilsey

  Chen is dead. They are all dead...Anger rose, again.

  “Tactical map.” She was surprised when the map displayed instantly.

  “Full status.”

  Windows popped open everywhere. She scanned them, one at a time. One even included the feed and system status from the High Ground Fly drone. The status window had a blank field labeled, “Name: <_>”.

  Hmmmm, I will have to think on that.

  “Rand, may I ask a question?”

  It was the simulated voice of HAL9000 that spoke, the default AI voice. Stupid tech humor.

  “Sure. Ask away.”

  “Why do you call me Bob?”

  She laughed out loud.

  “It's an acronym, Bob. Bug Out Boat. Bug Out Boy. Bug Out Bob. Take your pick. Do you want a different name?”

  “People usually call me Hal. I have no idea why. I think it is a joke of some kind, but humor still eludes me.”

  “Bob doesn't feel right, either. The Bob I knew was an idiot,” Rand said. “I think I’ll call you...Poole. Dr. Frank Poole. Is that okay?”

  “I think I like it. Thank you, Rand.”

  “You’re welcome, Poole.”

  “Dr. Frank Poole is at your service. How may I help you survive this day?”

  “Was that a joke, Poole?” Rand smiled.

  “That remains to be seen, ma'am.”

  “If you ever call me ma'am again, I swear to Christ I’ll delete you.”

  “Duly noted...Nancy.”

  “Call me Rand, or it's Bob, again, for you!”

  “I’m sorry, Rand. Another attempt at humor.”

  “Better,” Rand said.

  “May I ask one more question?”

  “Yes. As long as you stop asking if you may ask a damn question. Just ask the question.” She smiled.

  “Why is there a rug on me?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Crater

  “Barcus was the guy who knew the capabilities of maintenance suits and how they worked best. We never knew exactly how durable they were before that. Jack Miller, the poor bastard, fell all the way to the planet inside his. We didn't know that his body had been rotting in there the whole time, half-cooked and pounded to jelly by the impact. The suit’s antennas were all destroyed. We didn’t know it was there, until we got really close. Close enough to smell it.”

  --Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Captain James Worthington, senior surviving member of the Ventura's command crew.

  <<<>>>

  The group of trackers reached the crater before the fires stopped.

  The great scar that the falling object left in the forest was indicative of the speed that it possessed on impact. The trench it left behind felled trees that were hundreds of years old. The final resting place was a bowl about thirty yards wide and ten deep.

  The group lined the rim, looking down at the man-shaped thing at its center. Man-shaped and yet not a man.

  It had two legs, two arms and seemed to be resting on its back. That was where the similarities ended. It was blacker than anything the High Keeper's trackers had ever seen, and not just black from the char of sky fall. No light seemed to escape from it. It had no head—just a swollen torso.

  High Tracker Tolwood was the first to descend into the crater for a closer look. He felt the heat of it. He took his water flask from his belt and filled his mouth. He spit the water onto the thing and the water turned to steam, instantly.

  It felt like he was in front of the forge in a blacksmith shop. He was as close as he was going to get, for now. At this distance, he saw that the forearms seemed to bristle with faintly glowing tools or weapons or fingers with claws.

  “We need to cool this down before we can bring it back to the Citadel,” he called over his shoulder in the direction of his men. “And, we need lots of ropes and chains.”

  ***

  It took two more days before they could drag it out of the crater. It was also far heavier than they thought it would be. It broke the axle of the first cart they brought in. Once they believed it was apparently made of stone, they obtained a cart of the appropriate size and strength.

  It took another week to wrestle it back to the nearest clearing where they could safely land a shuttle. They loaded it, cart and all, into the large cargo bay, with the help of an ox they found at a nearby farm.

  As cold and as inert as it was, they found if placed upright, it stood on its own wide feet. It looked like a dark statue carved from midnight.

  Tolwood supervised the entire process. Once it was brought to the Citadel, he realized why it unnerved him. No matter how many times he had the thing scrubbed, it still had a faint smell of death about it. All the scrubbing in the world could not defeat the scent. Chief Tech Mason studied it for months. But, the smell remained, faint and haunting.

  ***

  Wes Hagan lived. Everyone else in the engineering section of the Memphis died.

  When the ship was hit, so many things could have killed him. The wreckage that tore through the main engines cut Granger in half. The massive hull breach sucked Holcomb and McHale out into space. The rest died in the vacuum of space strapped into their seats.

  “How did Captain Everett know?” Wes said out loud, to himself, as he unbuckled his five-point harness and hammered his fist on the emergency lifeboat’s access button.

  As soon as he was through the hatch, it slammed shut, and he felt the explosive bolts blast the lifeboat away from the Memphis. Lights came on, full brightness.

  The prerecorded voice spoke directly to the HUD in his mind.

  “This is an emergency. Please sit and strap yourself in.”

  Wes was in his light pressure suit and helmet. It was all that had saved him from the vacuum of space. Hagen felt bulky as he floated toward the pilot’s seat. A sudden impact to the hull drove him toward the front, ramming his ribs into the headrest of the pilot’s seat. He heard, more than felt, his ribs break.

  Alarms sounded. Proximity alarms he recognized. Shit.

  “Activate emergency AI. Navigation display. Do not crash my boat, you stupid computer!” On the edge of panic, Wes screamed as he strapped in. He felt the lifeboat tumble.

  The display dome activated, showing the exterior view. The lifeboat was in a backward tumble. A display window showed the status of the AI, initiating slowly. The lifeboat had been thrown clear of the heavily damaged Memphis.

  “Goddammit.” He hit the manual override, grabbed the grav-foil controls and slowed the roll, as he watched the moon’s surface grow closer on every rotation.

  The roll was controlled by the time the AI’s initialization completed. Hagan hit the decelerators, hard, and leveled off.

  He saw chunks of various sizes impacting the moon all around him.

  “Emergency Module this is Chief Engineer Wes Hagan. We’re in deep shit. Plot a direct vector to a safe landing site. If we’re hit by a big piece of the Ventura, we are finished.”

  As if to punctuate the statement, a giant piece of the outer ring impacted the moon’s surface directly in front of them, forcing them to fly directly through the resulting cloud of dust and stones.

  “Chief Hagan, allow me.” The AI took control of the lifeboat.

  Hagan released the controls and hugged his ribs. He found it difficult to breathe. He scanned the display windows as the moon's surface rolled by, all too close.

  His eyes landed on the AI status display. ECHO systems active. Emergency mode. Survival situation.

  “ECHO, status? What the hell happened,” Wes demanded.

  “The Ventura was destroyed by multiple nuclear missiles. The planet has an automated defense grid that activated when the ship entered orbit. The Memphis was destroyed by multiple, severe impacts from large pieces of the Ventura. This lifeboat was the only one activated.”

  Wes strained to turn and look at the lifeboat. It had been heavily modified. Besides the pilot and copilot seats, it had only twelve other seats. Three rows of four seats with
an aisle down the middle, like a commercial shuttle but less comfortable. Then, there was a wall with a center door.

  “Is the compartment depressurized?” The computer’s AI didn’t reply, but an additional display showed cabin pressure. It said, Nominal.

  An enormous impact on the hull drove Hagan forward onto his harness. Then, there was pain, followed by darkness.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Tesla Array

  “I have been entirely honest regarding Dr. Bowen's treatment. We were all under incredible stress. I will not apologize. I only wish I had blown that bitch out the airlock that first day.”

  --Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Lieutenant Valerie Hume, the security chief on the Memphis.

  <<<>>>

  It was only a few minutes before Hume returned. Ibenez was still with her.

  Without a word, the two of them collected Myers' body and carried him off the bridge.

  Worthington said, “We need to hold it together, people, if we’re going to survive.”

  “Commander, Ibenez says he might be able to help at the engineering station. He is technical and has a PhD in patience, apparently. He has worked with Bowen for four years,” Hume said, with a bit of forced humor, as she dried her eyes and returned to the security station.

  “Do it.”

  He didn't take his focus from the forward screens. Chunks of the Ventura still crashed around them.

  “Commander, it's true. Sensor logs show the Ventura was targeted and nuked, intentionally. No warning. Shielded orbital platforms just attacked. Missiles, plasma cannons,” Ibenez said.

  Looking up, they all saw that they just passed over an antenna of some kind. A few moments later, there was another one.

  “Sir, I think we are clear,” Muir said.

  A window from an aft camera opened to the left. They saw more high-velocity projectiles coming in at a steep angle.

  “Captain, I think I know what those antenna nodes are,” Ibenez said.

  “Commander, not captain, Ibenez. But, call me Jim or Jimbo, damn it.” Worthington grew serious.

  “Sorry, sir.”

  “What about the nodes?” Jimbo asked.

  “I think they’re nodes from a Tesla communications array.” Greg stared at his console.

  Jim pounded a button, a bit too hard, and the engineering console came up in the main viewer.

  “The nodes are decreasing their separation,” Ibenez said, apparently assuming Jim would know what that meant.

  “Spit it out, Ibenez.” Worthington sounded angry now.

  “A Tesla array is an LSCA, sorry, a Large Scale Communications Array. Ancient tech,” Ibenez said.

  “So what.”

  The events were sinking in. Jim replaced adrenaline with anger.

  “There’s usually a base at the center of the array,” Ibenez said.

  This was enough for Worthington to turn and look at Greg. He glanced at Hume. She nodded.

  Another Klaxon began to sound.

  “Another hatch seal has failed. In Engineering. One of the shops.” Muir turned off the alarm.

  “Sir, the base Ibenez mentioned is ahead, 9° to starboard. It's beaconed. It must have power. Eleven kilometers out,” Muir stated.

  “Do you think it's defended? What are we up against?” Worthington asked Muir.

  Ibenez chimed in again, “Look, I don't know for sure. But, moon-based Tesla Arrays, where the gravity is low, are typically not manned after the array is completed. Initially, hundreds of people worked there, especially if it was long ago. Once completed, the base emptied.”

  “Commander, Elkin is on comms,” Tyrrell called.

  “Go, Elkin,” Worthington ordered.

  “Commander, the reactor core is beginning to spike. I can't explain it. The systems are so compromised, I can't tell if it's about to blow or jettison. We need to stand down, soon.” Elkin yelled over the sound of the machines in the background.

  “Do not let that reactor dump its core. Override safeties, if you have to,” Worthington ordered. “We’re dead without that reactor.”

  “Yes, sir.” Elkin signed off.

  “It's better to burn out than to fade away,” Ibenez said.

  The entire bridge crew turned to look at him at the same time.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Hume asked Ibenez. “They're all dead. Thousands of them. Dead.” She was pissed.

  “Hey, come on. I'm scared shitless here. I'm handling it,” Greg said. “There are a ton of alarms in engineering. Have Walt Edwards go down to help. He’s another one from Bowen's survey team. A very smart guy.”

  Worthington nodded at Tyrrell and he opened a channel. “Walt Edwards, report to Elkin in engineering, stat!”

  “Base, dead ahead. There’s a landing apron. Just this side of the domes,” Beary said.

  “Putting it down hot. Stand ready,” Cook said.

  Cook took the pinnace in fast and set it down after a simple 90° turn. They all felt it.

  “Elkin,” Jimbo called. “We’re down, take the reactor off-line.”

  Before he finished his sentence, the lights, the screens and the gravity plates went off-line. Emergency lights came back on.

  ***

  They sat on the bridge, not saying a word, for over a minute, just breathing.

  “Commander, the crew is checking in. Orders?” Tyrrell asked.

  “Have everyone make their way to the ops briefing room, after they safely stabilize all systems. It’s directly below the bridge. We also need to search the entire ship for survivors. All compartments,” Worthington said, while getting up.

  Everyone that could, assembled within three minutes.

  “Sir, I saw Dr. Bowen in airlock number three,” Trish Elkin said. “My code wouldn't work. With the power off, it will get cold in there, soon.”

  Worthington sighed and looked at Hume. “I'll take care of it, Elkin.”

  “Ensign Weston is still trapped in the dock, as well,” Tyrrell added.

  “We’ll systematically search the ship for anyone injured. As of right now, we have fourteen people unaccounted for. Mind the hatch lights. If a hatch light is not green, do not open it. Split up and search. Beary, you and Cook go see what you can do about getting Weston out. Dr. Shaw, go with Elkin down to see about getting the reactor online. Doctor, Elkin's life is the priority. She WILL live. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” Dr. Shaw acknowledged.

  “We’ll meet back here in thirty minutes. Hume, you’re with me.” Worthington walked out and people fanned out.

  They checked every compartment they passed, as they headed for airlock number three. It took longer than they thought because they discovered five dead in the mess hall. All were dragged into the corridor, the task made easier by the lighter gravity.

  When they got to airlock number three, they found Bowen trying to pry off the control panel with a fine instrument that was completely wrong for the job.

  Worthington tapped the heel of his flashlight on the airlock window and Bowen looked up.

  And, she started yelling.

  They could not hear her because the viewport material was four inches thick.

  “Tyrrell, this is Jimbo.”

  “Jimbo, go,” he replied.

  “Can you patch me through to Dr. Bowen?”

  “I can. Are you sure you want me to, sir?” Jimbo heard the smile in Tyrrell's voice.

  Everyone in the world the man knew is dead and he is amused?

  “Do it,” Worthington said.

  She screamed at him; so, instead of speaking, he opened the control panel and held his hand over the outer door’s control.

  She stopped.

  Worthington barely whispered, knowing it was a menacing tone when sent directly to a HUD.

  “Over 2,000 of my friends were just murdered.” He let that sink in. “I’m not going to stand for any shit from you. Do. You. Understand?”

  She fumed. She drew in a deep bre
ath, for what looked like another tirade.

  “DO YOU?” Worthington yelled, losing patience.

  Hume turned her back to the scene and moved away, a bit. The implication being, there would be no witnesses.

  Bowen deflated and looked slightly fearful.

  Worthington slammed the control panel closed and entered the access code to unlock the hatch. It slid open.

  “Go to the forward briefing room and wait there for orders.” Worthington turned, to resume searching.

  “You wait one second, you bastard! You can't just order—” She didn't finish because, in a flash, Jim had a handful of her hair and, as she cursed him, he dragged her down the corridor.

  He dumped her onto the pile of broken, bloody bodies and held her face a few inches from them. “These people were my friends.” He pushed her face closer, until her nose almost touched a woman’s broken eye socket. The eye was gone. “Her name was Donna Welsh. I had breakfast with her this morning. She and Ken Nichols were talking about getting married.” He aimed her face at Ken. “She asked me to marry them.”

  He pushed Bowen away, throwing her into the bulkhead because of the lighter gravity. “Go to the forward briefing room and wait there for orders.”

  He turned and searched the next compartment. Hume waited for Bowen to move toward the briefing room. She didn't say a word, as she followed Worthington.

  ***

  In thirty minutes, everyone waited in the briefing room, except for Dr. Shaw, Elkin, and Greg Ibenez. They were all in the reactor room.

  Cook put on a pressure suit and went outside, around to the damaged section where Weston was trapped. He took another pressure suit with him, for Weston. He quickly cycled through the airlock and had Weston freed, and to the briefing room, on time.

  “Status?” Worthington called out.

  His command staff responded first.

  Cook was first. “When I was outside, I saw massive hull breaches. I saw all the way into the docking bay and engineering. Life pod number four was gone, just gone. While Ensign Weston was putting on his pressure suit, I saw that the dock was really torn up. The T66 shuttle was totaled, along with its Emergency Module. The Hammerheads looked okay.”