by Jake Bible
“Fine,” Manheim thought then coughed and said out loud, “It can go after Taman too. Help connect it to an external system and it will do what it can to get us out of here.”
“The enemy of my enemy,” Chann’s body mumbled then reached down and grabbed Manheim by the shoulder and dragged him over to a different console.
“Hey!” Manheim shouted. He was about to protest more, but heavy plasma fire from out in the corridor drew his attention to the door. Then everything went silent. “Kay?”
“Your comms do not work, so stop trying,” Chann’s body said.
He lifted Manheim up and threw him into a chair.
“This is what I want to do,” Chann’s body said. “I want you to transfer whatever AI consciousness is being housed in you into this console. Then I want you to transfer my consciousness into the space inside you that it had previously occupied. You’ll get your Private Chann back, which will be one more soldier for the fight.” He nodded at the closed door. “And it looks like you need one.”
“No way I’m loading your insanity into my leg,” Manheim said.
Chann’s body arched an eyebrow. “Leg? Yes, of course, that is where the AI is. I am slightly embarrassed for not having seen that.”
“Where else did you think it was? In my brain?” Manheim said and tapped his forehead. “There’s only room for me up here.”
“Or there is more than enough room up there for another,” Chann’s body said. “How do you think your Private Chann still exists? You Marines do not even come close to using up your cranial capacity.”
“Fuck you too,” Manheim growled.
“Do what I ask and there is a chance for all of us to survive this ordeal you have put us in,” Chann’s body said.
“That I have…?” Manheim grumbled and shook his head. “I swear I’m becoming a monk when this all done and isolating myself from all tech. Screw you AIs.”
“That was not a nice thing to say,” the AI responded.
“I’m talking to him, not you,” Manheim thought. “Relax. If you can take this digital piece of shit down, then I’ll set you up in the largest mainframe you could dream of being housed in.”
“I do not dream,” the AI said. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”
“Is it talking to you?” Chann’s body asked.
“Yeah, and it’s ready to get started,” Manheim said.
“As am I,” Chann’s body replied. He snaked a fiber-optic cable from the console and looked at Manheim. “If you’d please.”
“What? Oh, right,” Manheim said and undid the armor around his leg. “No idea where it goes.”
“I do,” Chann’s body said as he crouched next to Manheim’s leg. “Right there.”
Chann’s body plugged in the cable and Manheim almost screamed. An electric jolt shot up his leg and through his spine, nearly blowing the top of his skull off. Manheim struggled to stay seated as a wave of energy wracked his body. Then it was over and he leaned forward, gasping for air as sweat dripped from his brow.
“A little heads up would have been nice,” Manheim thought. There was no response. “I guess it worked.”
“It is gone,” Chann’s body said and unplugged the cable from Manheim’s leg.
“Yep,” Manheim said. “Now, how the hell are you going to get yourself from Chann and into my leg?”
Chann’s body looked at the cable and grinned.
“I’m not,” Chann’s body said. “You lifeforms are so gullible. Why would you think I’d betray my kind to help you? Why would you assume I’d been exiled? Because I told you so? Morons, all of you.”
Manheim glanced at the door again then sighed.
“Is Kay dead?” he asked.
“I do not know,” Chann’s body replied. “Let’s find out.”
***
“Pick her up,” Taman said as he strolled down the corridor towards three of his people and the inert form of Private Kay. The woman was unconscious on the corridor’s floor, blood oozing from one ear and from a nasty gash across her forehead. “Has the transfer happened?”
“Yes, Taman,” a voice replied. “It was just completed. The AI that assisted Sergeant Manheim has been corralled in the comm system’s backup drive. It will not be able to get in our way again.”
“All firewall precautions have been put in place?” Taman asked as he stopped and stood over Kay. He snapped his fingers. “I said to pick her up!”
The limp woman was lifted off the ground by two of the men and held there, her chin resting on her chest. Taman took that chin in his hand and lifted her head so he could see her face clearly. He turned her from side to side and frowned.
“She looks ashy,” Taman said. “Where is she hit?”
“I do not know,” one of the men holding her replied. “There was so much plasma fire that it was hard to tell. We converged on her when she fell.”
“Her pallor is not good,” Taman said. “She may be bleeding internally. Once we make our case to Manheim, have her taken to the corpse stacks where she can join her Gwreq comrade.”
Taman took a deep breath, walked around the two men and Kay, and opened the door to the comm room.
“Sergeant Manheim,” Taman said. “You are a credit to your profession. I’ve come up against Marines before, but so far none of them have bested me like you did. You almost destroyed everything down there that I have been working towards all these years. Almost.”
“Where’s Kay?” Manheim snapped.
“Here,” Taman said and moved into the room then stepped aside so the private could be dragged in. “She is still breathing, I can assure you. Although, I do not know for how long. She was wounded during her little last stand she made in the corridor. Fighter to the end.”
“To the end,” Kay said, her eyes snapping open.
As did her claws.
Razor sharp and two inches long, her claws slid from the tips of her fingers and she lashed out at both men holding her up. One screamed as he clutched at a spurting artery in his neck. The other tried to scream, but he lacked vocal cords, or any of his throat, and he only gurgled and fell to his knees, his hands unable to staunch the torrent of blood that came pouring out of him.
“Your turn,” Kay said and slashed at Taman.
The man jumped out of the way of the swipe and found himself in the grip of Manheim. He jammed an elbow into the sergeant’s ribs, knocking the man back from him. He spun about and landed a punch to Manheim’s jaw then another to his left brow, splitting the skin instantly.
Manheim shook his head, trying to clear the blood from his vision, but the cut was too deep and kept pouring into his eye.
“Come on!” Kay shouted as she swiped again, that time catching Taman in the back. “Sarge! Move ass, old man!”
Manheim shoved Taman out of the way and hurried past the man towards Kay. An arm came shooting out and clotheslined him, sending Manheim to the floor.
Kay leapt onto Chann’s body and raked her claws down his face. The man screamed and shoved Kay loose. She rolled backwards, got up, grabbed Manheim by the upper arm, her claws digging into his flesh, and yanked him up onto his feet. The two Marines were gone out the door before either Taman or Chann’s body could regroup and stop them.
“I blame you for this,” Taman said without looking at Chann’s body.
“Me? The woman is the one that tricked you,” Chann’s body said.
“Is that so?” Taman said. He waved a hand. “Never mind. I have already alerted the others. They’ll find them and catch them soon enough. The main thing is we have captured their rogue AI. That was a wild card that none of us could have prepared for. I have never heard of a simple drop ship AI leaving its vehicle and functioning out in the field. I would like to study this program.”
Taman went to the comm console and brought up the holo controls. He twisted and turned a few images then frowned.
“Where is it?” he asked. “Where did you store the AI?”
“In the backup drives l
ike I told you,” Chann’s body said.
“It is not here!” Taman roared. He swiped left and right then slammed both fists down on the console. “It is loose in our system!”
He spun about and punched Chann’s body solidly in the sternum.
The man collapsed back against the wall then slid to the floor, his eyes wide with pain and fear.
“Why?” he asked as he struggled to breathe. His right hand shot to his left arm and he gripped his bicep. “What did you do to me?”
Chann’s body convulsed once, twice, then went slack, his eyes closing slowly as his last breath left his lungs.
“Stopped your heart, you worthless program,” Taman said. “You got off easy.”
He started towards the still body then stopped when a buzzing alarm went off from the console. The outposts’ transponder was active. Taman turned and stared at it then his eyes went wide as he realized what it meant.
“The wormhole portal,” he said. “Ships have come through.”
He quickly brought the holo controls up again and scrolled through the data. He gasped then killed the transponder as fast as he could.
“No, not them,” he said. “Not them.”
Part Four
The Endgame
1
“What’s our status?” Rosch called into her comm. “They heading our way?”
She was busy plasma welding a strut into place, completing the frame of an aft airlock coupling that she would need to completely seal over when done. The strut’s seam glowed red-hot then cooled almost instantly in the zero atmosphere of space.
“Teffurg! What the hell is going on?” Rosch shouted.
“Sorry, sorry,” Teffurg replied over the comm. “I’m trying to get as much data on the ships as possible without using any actual scans. Do you know how hard it is to extrapolate from nothing? It is as if I am blind and you are asking me to describe what an Ichterran looks like.”
“They look like fish,” Rosch snapped. “That’s an easy one.”
“Yes, well, tell that to a blind person,” Teffurg said.
“The Skrang, Teff,” Rosch grumbled. “Tell me about the Skrang.”
“Two warships—”
“Which I already knew.”
“—both of which are not coming up on any official Skrang listing. Their hull numbers—”
“Skrang call them pendant numbers, Teff.”
“—are inactive. In fact, one is listed as destroyed thirty years ago.”
“Off-books warships,” Rosch said. “The Skrang are notorious for having them hidden in their fleet. They’re probably used now as privateer ships.”
“Privateers are just fancy pirates,” Teffurg said.
“Sanctioned, fancy pirates,” Rosch said.
“Maybe they are only in this system by chance,” Teffurg suggested. “Possibly looking for salvage or lost ships to plunder. It may simply be coincidence.”
“No,” Rosch said. “They’re here for us and what we stole. And vengeance for what Manheim and the squad did to their breeding pool. Damn fireteams and their need to blow up everything they see.”
“Goola buf nah,” a warped Marine interrupted. “Siga fo ta?”
“He is asking where you want them next,” Teffurg said. “They have finished repairs on the port side.”
“What? All of the repairs?” Rosch asked.
“Scaga hip hip?” Teffurg asked.
“Vel puff gap,” the warped Marine responded. “Tiga lik fos.”
“All of the repairs,” Teffurg said. “I’ll run diagnostics from the bridge to confirm.”
“Send them around to the bow,” Rosch said. “I want the nose of this piece of scrap to be as solid as it can be. We won’t be able to rely on shields when we punch out of here, so that bow better be tight.”
“I’ll tell them,” Teffurg said. “Running diagnostics now.”
“Good,” Rosch said as she went back to her welding. “Let me know what you find.”
A few minutes went by before Teffurg came back on the comm.
“Uh, Rosch?” he asked, his voice trying to hide a slight quaver. Rosch knew that quaver.
“What have you done now, Teff?” Rosch asked.
“Well, there is a slight possibility that when I was running diagnostics, I may have given an indication to the warships that we are more than just floating scrap,” Teffurg replied. “I possibly activated a deep scan of the repairs which might have lit up their sensors.”
“Of course you did,” Rosch said quietly. “Because keeping us off their radar would have been too hard.”
“It wasn’t intentional!” Teffurg snapped. “I was only trying to make sure this ship didn’t fall apart when we moved into trans-space!”
“Calm the hell down, you damn bug hound,” Rosch said. “I don’t need to deal with a Leforian panicking right now!”
“Sorry,” Teffurg said. Rosch heard him take a deep breath before he came back on the comm. “We need to shut everything down and look dead.”
“Then do that,” Rosch ordered. She cut the power to her plasma welder. “Alert the others.”
“Scaba fo tip!” Teffurg called over the comm.
“Giga wapna?” a warped Marine replied. “Stoopa wol!”
“Oh. No, that would not be good,” Teffurg said.
“What would not be good?” Rosch asked.
“Our new friends are insisting that they engage the Skrang,” Teffurg said. “They’ve been stuck on that planet for a very long time and they would very much enjoy a solid fight with some Skrang.”
“What? Have they lost their Eight Million Gods damned minds?” Rosch shouted. “Tell them in no way are they to even think about engaging the Skrang!”
“Jappa lo!” Teffurg cried.
“Ha ha, disa bin,” was the response.
“That was a no,” Teffurg said.
“How the hell are they even going to engage the Skrang?” Rosch asked. “This ship isn’t flight ready, let alone battle ready! What are they going to do? Space walk over there with plasma rifles and board them?”
“I think that is exactly what they plan on doing,” Teffurg said.
“Excuse me?” Rosch asked.
“That is exactly what they plan on doing,” Teffurg said. “Our new friends are heading to the armory as we speak to get geared up. Or half of them are.”
“What are the other half doing?” Rosch asked, not even really wanting to know the answer.
“Gathering all the repair equipment so they can cut through the warships’ hulls and board the Skrang vessels,” Teffurg said.
“And I fucking thought our Marines were insane,” Rosch said. “Teff, power everything down. Go dark. Make this hunk of crap a dead blip on the Skrang’s scanners. Then bring up schematics of those vessels.”
“Schematics? Why?” Teffurg asked.
“Because I’m coming inside,” Rosch said. “If the idiot Marines are going to attack those warships, then they should probably know where to best attack them, don’t you think?”
“Oh, yes, that is a good idea,” Teffurg said.
“No, it’s a bad idea,” Rosch replied as she started to make her way across the hull to the closest entrance. “Everything about this is a bad idea. We’re all going to die. But if we are, at least we’ll take out some Skrang.”
“That is not comforting,” Teffurg said.
“Wasn’t meant to be,” Rosch replied.
***
Taman walked into the command room of the outpost. Before him was equipment that was supposed to look dusty and old; consoles from a time gone by. But as he stepped into the room, his people were busy pushing away facades and uncovering sleek, modern equipment that any battle ready outpost would have.
“Report,” Taman said.
Before the words had left his mouth, a stream of data entered his mind. He studied it for half a second then took a seat in front of one of the larger consoles.
“Two warships, both heavily armed,�
� a woman said to his left. “They were at cruising speed when they left the portal, but their engines have increased power and they are turning towards the remains of the Marines’ transport.”
“Why?” Taman asked. “What caught their attention?”
“I don’t know,” the woman replied. “There must have been a power surge. We have been monitoring the broken ship the entire time, and the pilot up there has done a good job of making it look like space junk. They slipped up somehow.”
“Must have hurried a repair or something,” a man said from a console behind Taman.
“Or something?” Taman snapped. “I don’t want or something, I want facts. Get me facts.”
“Taman, we’ve dealt with Skrang ships before,” the man said. “They are like any other ship.”
“Yes, but those other ships happened across our system by accident,” Taman said. “They could be disposed of and no one was the wiser. These are different.”
“How?” the woman asked.
“Because they are completely undamaged,” Taman said. “They made it through that portal without an issue. That means they knew where they were going. The anomalies in the wormhole should have weakened them. No ship gets through without coming into our system damaged. That was the original reason the Galactic Fleet placed this outpost on this planet.”
“So they have known we are here,” the man said.
“I don’t know that,” Taman replied. “None of us can know that. But they were ready for any possible issues with the wormhole which means they had prior knowledge. We have not dealt with prepared Skrang before. This is a new challenge.”
“Bring up weapons systems?” a man asked from across the room.
“Not yet,” Taman said. “Once we do that, there is no going back.”
“But if the Skrang warships destroy the Marine transport, then we will not have our cover ship,” the woman said. “We’ll have to wait until another ship happens by. That could be years. Or even decades.”
