Edge of War (The Eternal Frontier Book 2)

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  Tag stared at the cam feed. Air recyclers buzzed overhead, and the thump of cannon fire and chaff launching beat like a pulse through the ship. He had to remind himself to breathe as he watched Gorenado’s limp form slowly grow larger in the feed. Sumo and Bull’s arms stretched for Gorenado. The ship slowed, a metallic groan reverberating through the hull.

  “We got him!” Bull roared. Even in happiness he sounded angry.

  “Perfect,” Sofia said. She let out a long sigh and shook her hands. “Got to remind myself not to hold the controls so tight. Fingers go numb.”

  Bull and Sumo began loping toward the hatch.

  “Bracken, we’ve got our man. As soon as my crew is situated, we’ll be ready to jump.”

  “That is excellent to hear,” Bracken said. “We are prepared to jump at your signal.”

  Tag undid his restraints. “Sofia, you’ve got the bridge. I need to get Gorenado into a regen chamber.”

  “Aye, Skipper,” Sofia said.

  Tag ran to the hatch where the marines had exited. Through the polyglass, he watched them close the hatch to space behind them. Hissing air poured into the chamber in white clouds until the room had repressurized and the interior hatch opened. Bull and Sumo didn’t bother taking their power suits off.

  “Bring him with me!” Tag commanded.

  Their heavy footsteps crashed behind him as they rushed to the med bay. Tag initiated a second regen chamber beside Lonestar’s as the marines unsuited Gorenado as best they could. When the regen chamber was open and ready for Gorenado, Tag turned back to them.

  “We can’t get the armor off without removing the spike,” Bull said. Besides the incident on Eta-Five’s surface, Tag had never seen Bull look so frightened. “What do we do?”

  “Will he bleed out?” Sumo asked.

  All the severed arteries and veins the spike currently blocked would spill blood across the med bay’s deck when it was removed. Death was certainly a highly probable risk.

  Bracken’s voice broke over the comms. “Captain Brewer, we’re requesting an update on jump status. More Drone-Mechs have arrived. We cannot withstand their fire much longer. Nycho is falling apart, and soon we won’t have a station to hide behind.”

  That made Tag’s decision for him. “Tear the spike out.”

  Sumo gave him a worried look.

  “Tear it out!”

  She and Bull loomed over Gorenado and used the augmented strength of their suits to squeeze the spike. They groaned and strained until the spike came out with a wet plop. Crimson liquid immediately began to pool around Gorenado. Tag knelt and peeled off the rest of the man’s armor.

  “Help me out with him,” Tag said. The marines grabbed Gorenado under his shoulders and deposited him in the regen chamber. They started to head toward the exit hatch, back to their personal quarters for their crash couches. “We don’t have time. Grab one here!”

  Tag secured himself into one of the patient crash couches. The other two marines settled in near him.

  “Bracken, Alpha,” Tag said. “Initiate coordinated jump. Now!”

  ***

  After the Argo completed its hyperspace transition, Tag unlatched his restraints. The pain in his leg was persistent but manageable. He applied autoheal gels and bandages to his leg and Sumo’s arms then went to check on his new patients, whose injuries were significantly worse. The marines followed him like shadows, peering into the regen chambers where Gorenado and Lonestar were kept in stasis.

  “Will they be okay?” Sumo asked. She played with the end of her long ponytail. “These things pretty much always work, right?”

  Bull grunted. Maybe in agreement. Tag wasn’t sure.

  “Most of the time, yeah,” Tag said. “I would be surprised if Lonestar isn’t out of there by our next stop. Might not be ready for another mission, but she’ll be healing well, I’m sure.”

  “And Gorenado?” Sumo asked.

  Tag checked the readouts from the regen chamber’s terminal. “He’s in critical condition. The AI isn’t giving me an estimate yet.” That wasn’t a good sign. No estimate usually meant the AI wasn’t even sure if the regen chamber would be sufficient to heal the patient’s trauma. He left that part out. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you both updated.”

  Sumo left, seemingly satisfied, but Bull lingered near the hatch. Tag retrieved a tissue sample of the free Mechanic they had encountered on Nycho from cryostorage.

  “Something up, Sergeant?” Tag asked. He took the plastic container and deposited it in the biochemical analysis port. A few buttons glowed on a terminal, and he programmed the machine to run chemical and genetic profiles on the tissues, comparing these samples with that of the Drone-Mech samples he’d analyzed before his return to the Montenegro.

  “Yeah, Captain,” Bull said, sauntering toward Tag. He spoke in a rolling growl that set Tag on edge. “There is something on my mind. I lost one marine already. Might be losing another one.”

  “They’re both—”

  Bull cut him off. “I know what it means when the regen chamber doesn’t give an estimate. As Lonestar would say, this ain’t my first rodeo.”

  “You’ve made that clear,” Tag said. “But don’t lose hope. If the regen chamber can’t do it alone, Gorenado’s got me and Alpha. Sometimes a human touch can do more than a computer.” He realized the irony of the statement as soon as he said it. But he didn’t care. “I promise you, I’m not giving up on him.”

  A vessel in Bull’s temple still throbbed.

  Tag initiated the protocols on the terminal, and the biochemical analysis machine began humming. “Something else?”

  Bull exhaled, running a thick hand through the red stubble on his head. “You’re a smart guy, Captain. I think you know what else I’m worried about.”

  The analysis machine chirped as it dissected the sample to determine its molecular constituents. Encountering the Dreg had been bad enough, but even worse had been the Drone-Mech ambush. They had expected a trap by the Drone-Mechs, but they had been nowhere on the station itself. Instead, they had popped out of hyperspace without warning right on their position. The Argo hadn’t detected any outgoing signals or courier drones from the station to send an alarm, so there was no obvious explanation for how the Drone-Mechs knew the Argo and Stalwart had been there.

  “I think I do,” Tag said. “During our conference with Bracken, we’ll discuss how the Drone-Mechs found us at Nycho.”

  “Damn right,” Bull said. “Fishy thing, too, when the only ones who knew where we were going were Bracken’s crew.”

  Bull’s suspicion of the Mechanics was back. So much for his calling Sharick a “brother” in the heat of battle. All the same, maybe Bull’s skepticism wasn’t so misplaced. What if a Drone-Mech had somehow infiltrated the Stalwart? Tag shuddered. How were they supposed to mount any kind of formidable resistance when their forces might already be compromised?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “Suggesting one of my crew members is infected is preposterous,” Bracken said. Her holo shimmered as if radiating the anger from her actual body.

  Around the conference table sat the usual crew: Coren, Sofia, Alpha, Bull, and Tag.

  “I realize it’s highly unlikely,” Tag began, “but there must be some explanation for the Drone-Mechs finding us so easily.”

  “I am slightly offended that you would doubt me,” Bracken said. “Especially after we risked our ship to protect yours.”

  “I understand,” Tag said, trying not to raise his voice. Bracken’s golden eyes appeared wide, her pupils dilated like a feline focused on prey. “But we’ve got to take all precautions.”

  “How do you know one of your people isn’t the culprit?” Bracken asked.

  Coren held up his hands defensively. “I’ve been tested.”

  “I wasn’t talking about you,” Bracken said, “rather the more technologically inept around there.”

  Gods be damned. Bracken really didn’t like Tag expressing any suspicions regardi
ng her or her crew. He needed to defuse the bomb he’d just set off. “I’m sorry, Bracken. Really, I am. I’m just trying to cover all our bases here, any possible leak. I’m more than happy to entertain your theories. But we’ve found no evidence that the nanites are capable of integrating into human hosts.”

  Bracken glared at Tag for a moment. With a huff, she admitted, “That’s true. Our researchers report much the same results. That’s not to say there aren’t other methods of manipulating the human mind.”

  “I’ll give you that,” Tag said, “and we’ll be on the lookout among the crew. Right now, I don’t even have a whole lot of suspects outside my officers. We’ve got two incapacitated marines, and we’ve only got one other to spare.”

  “Being an officer and being a traitor are not mutually exclusive,” Bracken shot back.

  “I know, I know,” Tag said. “We’ll do our due diligence here. All I ask is that you run the assays Coren sent you to detect nanites. Trust me, I’ll be as happy as you are to see that no one is infected.”

  “Fine,” Bracken said. “But we will not forget that you subjected us to this.”

  “And neither will we,” Bull said under his breath, “when we find the traitor on your ship.”

  Tag shot him a look he hoped conveyed his disapproval. Luckily, it didn’t seem the audio receptors had picked up the whispered comment, or else Bracken had ignored the insubordinate suggestion. Either way, Tag needed to quickly change their focus.

  “Any chance this is all a terrible coincidence?” Tag suggested. He doubted it, but he wanted to spur some new discussion away from pointing fingers at each other. “Maybe they were returning to Nycho for something.”

  “Probability analysis would likely yield an exceedingly low chance that the Drone-Mechs sent a strike group of ships by happenstance to our location,” Alpha said.

  “She’s right,” Coren said. “There are too many other Mechanic space stations out there, too many colonies and planets for them to just randomly show up precisely when we’re around.”

  “What about those little Dreg assholes?” Sofia said.

  “Dreg are not typically known for forming alliances with other species,” Bracken said. “I find it doubtful they’d be working willingly with the Drone-Mechs.”

  “Keyword is ‘willingly,’” Bull said.

  “That’s right,” Bracken said. “It’s possible they have been hijacked much like the Drone-Mechs.”

  Coren’s fingers tapped on the table in a steady staccato. “Certainly. But I have my doubts about that. One thing about Drone-Mech behavior: they act differently than free Mechanics. They’re more robotic and admittedly stupider. Their tactics aren’t as good, and the only reason we’ve really lost ground to them is sheer numbers.”

  “This is true,” Bracken said. “There is no other way we would be able to withstand their forces if it weren’t.”

  “So I take it the Dreg were acting like their normal parasitic selves?” Tag asked.

  “Exactly,” Coren said. “Their behavior was no more indicative of being possessed by nanites than yours.”

  “I suppose that’s reassuring,” Tag said.

  “If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say they were feeding off the Drone-Mech scraps left behind,” Bracken said. “Their entire species has a habit of salvaging and pirating, and they’ve been a constant plague on our exploratory and research teams.”

  “Hence the well-armed research vessels, right?” Sofia clarified.

  “That is correct,” Coren said.

  “Maybe the Dreg are allies with whoever controls the Drone-Mechs,” Tag said. “I think we can’t write off the possibility. But I can understand your arguments.” He pictured the husks of Dreg ships clinging to the Argo like barnacles. “At our next stop, maybe we can spend some time on a spacewalk retrieving some samples. Test them for nanites or something.”

  “That would be helpful to rule out possibilities,” Bracken said. “We will do likewise.”

  For a moment, Tag’s crew and Bracken looked around the table. All seemed preoccupied in their thoughts, stretching for alternative possibilities.

  “How likely is it that they’re simply following our drive signatures through space?” Tag asked.

  “Extremely likely in normal space within certain proximities,” Coren said, “but Mechanic technology in hyperspace, much like your tech, isn’t capable of those extremes. There was no one here when we arrived at Nycho. I suppose maybe someone or something was set up on the station to act as an alarm of sorts.”

  “What about the Drone-masters?” Bull said, his voice gruff. His red eyebrows scrunched together like angry, fiery caterpillars. “Couldn’t they have technology like that if they developed the nanites?”

  “Maybe,” Bracken said.

  “Is there anything we can do if that’s the case?” Sofia asked. “I like fast flying, but it’d be nice not to get shot at every once in a while.”

  “Without knowing how they’re doing it,” Coren said, “I have no idea if there is any possibility of avoiding them.”

  “I suppose we’ll see if they really are following us,” Tag said. “Next stop is Herandion Station. We’ve got four days to prepare for another encounter. Maybe we’ll get lucky and we’ll find some free Mechanics.”

  “Maybe,” Bracken said. “In the meantime, my researchers are formulating models for gravimetric control of the Drone-Mech nanites. They have made some progress in the theory. Much of it builds on the machinery and technology at the Lacklon Institute on Meck’ara.”

  “Good to hear,” Tag said. “Alpha and I will be working on the biological components. I started analyses on our free Mechanic samples earlier today.”

  When Bracken’s holo fizzled out from the meeting, Tag dismissed his crew back to their stations. Alpha followed him in silence to the med bay. His muscles still hurt, sore from overexertion on Nycho, and a headache began pulsing behind his eyes. Maybe it was from exhaustion or the long-term effects of exposure to the cold, loss of blood, and who knew what the hell he might have picked up from the Dreg attack.

  “Captain?” Alpha asked. Tag looked at her, and she pointed to his leg. He hadn’t done anything other than apply some autoheal and coag gel since they’d made the jump, and spears of distant pain still stabbed up through his nerves as his suit-provided painkillers wore off. “You’re bleeding. Do you require medical assistance?”

  “Looks that way,” he said. Alpha’s acknowledgement of his injuries seemed to accelerate the waning of his meds, and he stood, his muscles quivering under his weight.

  While Alpha helped him amble to the med bay, he was still unable to separate Alpha’s current concern for his well-being from the conversation he’d had days ago with her. He wished he had created her in a time of peace during the mission the Argo was supposed to be on. Shaping her conscience while on a search for new knowledge across the galaxy would have been far more favorable than throwing her into a war. She’d had a violent birth and a short, tumultuous life so far. As they wandered into the med bay and she began sifting through supplies, he took comfort in knowing that at least she still had the capacity to heal others.

  And, hopefully, herself.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Alpha walked toward the regen chambers. Each chirped and hummed as if conversing in a language only it knew. She checked the status on Lonestar and Gorenado even though Tag hadn’t asked her to. He watched her beady eyes scan the terminals next to them, surveying vital signs and machine reports on their injuries.

  “Gorenado may not survive,” she said. Tag wanted to believe she said it with sorrow or concern. But wanting to believe it didn’t make it so.

  “What do you think about that?” Tag asked. He might have been a doctor, but he was no psychologist. Even so, he couldn’t help probing into Alpha’s psyche. It must have been the scientific part of him, the side that was ever curious, ever wondering. He got off the patient crash couch where he had been sitting while Alpha had applied
the autoheal gel and bandages to his legs and the frostbitten portions of his skin. When he reached her, she turned to him.

  “I am concerned,” she started, “that the regen chamber will not be sufficient. I’m concerned you and I will need to perform our own interventional surgery on him to expedite tissue closure and restore blood flow to his heart.”

  “And what about Gorenado’s life?” Tag asked. “Does it bother you that he might die?”

  “It will bother me if we fail to save his life.”

  It wasn’t quite the answer Tag had hoped to hear. But it was a start. He wanted to delve deeper with Alpha, to help her realize again what it was like to feel a wide range of emotions rather than just the extremes she had displayed so far. He had to remind himself it was a temporary distraction. An entire race might be depending on their progress in the lab.

  “Shall we?” Tag motioned to the lab equipment and terminals on the other side of the bay.

  “I look forward to the challenge.”

  “If we can’t disable the nanites,” Tag said, “then hopefully we can at least prevent free Mechanics from succumbing to them.”

  “Yes, hopefully,” Alpha said. She bent over the terminal to retrieve the results of Tag’s earlier analysis. A bevy of chemical formulas and molecular structures floated in the air between them. Alpha gestured through the holoscreen until she came upon the neural tissue samples. “This is promising.”

  “Yes.” Tag peered closer at the chemical components. “No match for nanites anywhere within the Mechanic’s brain. At least we know she’s a free Mechanic. That might just mean she never came into contact with them, so I don’t know how useful she’ll be. We need to know if she was actually exposed to them.”

  “True.” Alpha selected the results of the blood sample next. “And it looks like a trace amount of nanites were in fact found in her blood.”

  “Really? Well, that’s certainly interesting. She was infected, but she wasn’t affected.”

  “It would seem that way. Reports show a rather high concentration of nanites within her tissues, too, consistent with levels of nanites in our Drone-Mech samples.”