Edge of War (The Eternal Frontier Book 2)

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  Tag led the hovergurney into the surgical suite after undergoing a sterilization spray. He could feel the eyes of the others glancing in at him from their work. Lonestar pressed her palm against the polyglass. The unnatural red glisten of Gorenado’s wound stared back up at Tag. The procedure ahead would require every ounce of focus he could muster, and the last thing he needed was the distraction of all the emotions radiating at him from onlookers.

  With a gesture over a terminal, the clear polyglass turned solid white. Lonestar might be put off by the sudden opacity, but Tag didn’t care. The Argo was safely in hyperspace, and his crew was embroiled in the most pressing tasks to ensure the success of their mission. The only things that mattered to him now were in the surgical suite.

  He took a deep breath. Alpha stood stock still, almost as if she had reverted to the droid she had once been, and gazed at him expectantly. “Let’s begin.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Tag began the procedure using a plasma blade to cut away some of the excess tissue that had grown over Gorenado’s wound. He looked at Alpha as he did, half-expecting her to cringe like a first-year medical student at the smell of burning flesh. But without activated scent detectors, she simply stared at the procedure with curious interest.

  “We’ll get a better sense of what we’re dealing with by cleaning the wound up a bit,” Tag said.

  “I see,” Alpha replied.

  Tag gestured over the nearby surgical terminal. A holo shone a green latticework of translucent vessels, muscles, tendons, bones, nerves, and organ structures over the hole in Gorenado’s chest, showing what his natural physiology should look like.

  “Problem is,” Tag said, “usually the AI system gives me some clue. Some reason it can’t complete the regen process without human intervention. Right now, we’ve got nothing.” Tag handed her the plasma blade and vacuum tube. “Can you do a bit more of the edgework?”

  Alpha paused a second. “My training algorithms suggest that I can.”

  “You certainly could when you were just an M3 droid. If you have to, you can load up an old sequence from before I implanted the synth-bio brain.”

  “Yes.” Alpha nodded, leaning over Gorenado. “I’ve got it.”

  She began working at the tangles of vessels and nerves, the torn muscles and fractured bone. Tag studied the wound. Half of this work should have been done already. Had the AI systems in the regen chamber not worked for some reason? Maybe the regen chamber was suffering some lingering effects of the virus the Drone-Mechs had infected the Argo’s comp systems with. That might explain its poor functioning.

  “Something wrong, Captain?” Alpha asked.

  “Just trying to reason things out here,” he said.

  Alpha turned back to her work, and Tag’s mind raced. All the tiny bone fragments from Gorenado’s busted ribs should have already been washed clean. The regen chamber shouldn’t have had a problem cauterizing the blood vessels either. Yet each torn vessel stared at him like a snake with its mouth open. Stranger than that, they weren’t bleeding. He probed the wound with a wormlike holocam. It projected a magnified image of Gorenado’s shredded anatomy onto a holoscreen, and Tag studied the bizarre attributes of the completely unhealed mess.

  “Captain,” Alpha said, “I’m having trouble cleaning the debris from Gorenado’s wounds.”

  The plasma blade couldn’t dislodge the bone fragments. Instead, the blue energy on the blade simply fizzled and popped when it touched the fragments.

  “Let me see that,” Tag said. He wanted to believe Alpha’s procedure wasn’t working simply because she hadn’t recalled it properly. His own efforts were met with the same failed results, and he highly doubted he had suddenly forgotten how to clean wounds. Frustration cut through Tag like a scythe through grain. “What is going on?”

  Something in Gorenado’s body was resisting the plasma blade. It made no sense. Plasma should slice through even the toughest of human tissues like a battlecruiser sliding through space. But for whatever reason, Gorenado’s tissues seemed to have become impervious to the standard-issue surgical equipment.

  “It’s almost as if he is made of some kind of alloy,” Alpha said. “Like he has his own innate energy shield. Nothing in my databases or brain is coming up with a solution for this type of physiological phenomenon.”

  Tag worked feverishly at various spots within the wound. But nothing he did with the blade made a difference. The plasma kept sparking out, as if the blade were losing power. Or—

  His mind raced now, a sudden realization crashing over him like an avalanche. “What did you say again?”

  “Nothing in my databases—”

  “No, before that.”

  “I remarked that Gorenado seemed as if he was made of some kind of alloy. Maybe had his own energy shield. But it was merely a metaphor. Nothing literal, Captain.”

  “Oh, you might actually be more right than you realized,” Tag said. He dropped the plasma blade into a pan and picked up a more antiquated metal surgical blade. Twisting his wrist, he rotated the stainless-steel blade before him. It caught and reflected the light of the surgical lamps. Willing his hands to remain sure and still, he cut gently into the coagulated blood around one of the tiny bone chips.

  Alpha made a soft tutting sound—maybe a droid’s version of a gasp. But he didn’t share in her surprise and instead continued cleaning the wound. As he did, blood finally flowed back into the opening as if a glacier had just melted and rivers were released down the mountain.

  “Suction and coagulation, now,” Tag said.

  Though Alpha still appeared shocked by the apparent magic of using the stainless-steel blade, she complied. With Gorenado’s wound suddenly unhindered by whatever had clotted it before, his vitals went wild. Alarms bleated periodically as Tag and Alpha worked frantically to fight each fire as it cropped up. Torn artery here. Retracted muscle there. All they had to do was stabilize Gorenado enough that they could load him back into the regen chamber.

  And if Tag’s hypothesis was correct, the regen chamber would take it from there. There wouldn’t be a blank time-estimate-to-healing window. Instead, he felt damn certain the AI would quickly diagnose and fix the issue now. With Alpha’s help, he placed coagulating microparticles around the wound, and when he judged the bleeding at a minimum, he guided the hovergurney back to the regen chambers. Alpha assisted in removing the life support system, and they hoisted Gorenado into the regen chamber.

  Once the chamber’s door locked shut with a mechanical whir and click, Tag initiated the regen process on the terminal. Blue light and liquid filled the chamber once more, covering Gorenado and soaking his injury. The holoscreen blinked. A progress bar showed in the air between Tag and Alpha. It filled and restarted over and over, with words like Diagnosis and Treatment Regimen floating above it.

  Then it disappeared, and a timestamp appeared. Tag’s eyes went wide, and his chest felt lighter, almost as if it were filling with helium. Alpha clenched her silver fingers in a gesture of victory. Approximately two weeks, the machine reported, until Gorenado would be whole enough to leave the chamber.

  Lonestar limped to their side, drawn by the apparent victory. “He’s going to make it?”

  “He is,” Tag said with pride.

  “Gods be damned, you did it. You saved his life.” She took a step back, growing quiet and contemplative. Far different from the reaction Tag had expected.

  “You look like you don’t believe me.”

  “No, it’s not that,” she said with her slight drawl. “It’s just...Thanks, Doc. Whatever you did, thank you.” She limped away, stretching her back and testing her own healing tissues. Tag was slightly confused by the interaction, but Alpha tugged at his sleeve and prevented him from lingering on the issue too long.

  “Captain,” Alpha said, “I’m still at a loss for what happened. Why did the stainless-steel blade work? After all, with the blade, the process was extraordinarily simple.”

  Tag wiped the
perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand, finally able to take a breath without Gorenado’s life hanging in his hands. “You said it yourself. His wounds were like an energy shield. And you also said we didn’t have anything like that in our medical databases. Nothing us humans have ever encountered before.”

  “Just like the Dreg,” Alpha said in sudden comprehension, her metallic head bobbing. “That is where you drew your hypothesis from.”

  “Right,” Tag said. “That Dreg spike that impaled Gorenado must’ve coated whatever it touched with some kind of polymer that’s inert to intense energy sources.”

  “Which makes sense,” Alpha said. “It had a distinctly biological look to it, but it somehow was being fired off in space through what appeared to be a rather powerful cannon. Judging by its use as an interspace weapon, I would guess it is capable of piercing energy shields as well.”

  “That would be my guess,” Tag said. “So when we pressed a plasma blade—which isn’t that much different from a pulse round—to the microscopic coating that was stuck around Gorenado’s wound, it simply absorbed that energy like an energy shield would.”

  Alpha indicated the regen chamber. “The regen chamber didn’t recognize the coating because the SRE had never encountered the Dreg. It simply couldn’t detect it. Have we disposed of the spike that we removed from Gorenado after Nycho?”

  “No, we still have it. Mind performing a little chromatography on it? I’d like a full spectral analysis run up so we can load the data to our med bay AI.”

  “Consider it done, Captain.” Before she traipsed away, she locked eyes with Tag. “That was truly thrilling.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Solving a problem like that to save a life. To save Gorenado’s life,” Alpha said. “I can see why you trained to become a medical scientist and physician. Having the power to save a life is a far better, a far more difficult skill to master than taking one. I will relish this victory of ours.”

  “Good,” Tag said, welcoming her enthusiasm for the medical profession. Her mind was young and malleable. He reminded himself to reward this behavior of hers, to offer her more opportunities to save lives rather than take them, to show her the great responsibility that came with the ability to do just that. There was still hope for Gorenado—and there was still hope for Alpha.

  Staring through the polyglass at Gorenado, Tag took a moment to revel in what they had accomplished. It was a reminder of how things had changed out here. How pushing the frontier of human knowledge and space and teetering on the precipice of war with unknown species provided unknowable challenges. His dad would probably smile at seeing this win, this shining shred of competence overcome an otherwise dark and grim situation. He could almost hear the words in his head: “Tag, you’re a highwayman. Got all the opportunities ahead of you, all the possibilities you could ever dream of. You’ve just got to keep looking side to side instead of just straight ahead. Keep those eyes open. Keep that brain working.”

  Coren and Sofia were still poring over the data on the free Mechanics. He strode toward them, ready to move on to the next challenge.

  “Captain, I’m going to request that you at least take a short break,” Coren said, not bothering to look up from his terminal. “I cannot imagine what you just did was easy.”

  “No, I promised I’d help,” Tag said. “I’m going to help.”

  Sofia paused. “What he’s trying to say is that you look like shit, could probably use a coffee, and then a second to chill your brain before you bumble through all this data with us.”

  “I liked the way he said it better,” Tag said.

  A shit-eating grin crossed Sofia’s face. “Is it better with a smile?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  In the mess hall, Tag took a sip of coffee as he let his mind wander. Darkness surrounded him except for the massive viewscreen showing an outboard view of the ship, brightened by the coursing plasma of hyperspace. A dull glow washed over the bulkhead, tables, and seats, almost as if it were a reflection off oceanic waves. But instead of having a blue tinge, it glowed purple and green.

  Tag wondered what staring at the screen with a belly full of gutfire would be like. Drunkenness and a dazzling light show would probably keep him entertained for a solid hour or two. But he was long past shirking responsibility and reality by allowing himself such a debaucherous pleasure. A metallic clink caught his attention, and a triangle of yellow light spilled in from the corridor, silhouetting a tall, muscular figure. His eyes took a second to adjust until he recognized Lonestar limping toward him.

  “Kind of creepy that you’re just sitting here in the dark,” she said. She walked with an awkward gait to the coffee maker and poured herself a cup. With steam rising from the cup, she slumped into the seat across from Tag. Her face twisted in a slight grimace. “This whole healing business is a bit more painful than I thought it’d be.”

  “You were wounded pretty badly. Busted vertebrae, shredded muscle.”

  Lonestar held up a hand. “Damn, I’ve seen some shit, but I don’t like imagining that on myself, you know?”

  Tag laughed. “I sometimes forget. That kind of stuff becomes pretty casual by the time you’re done with medical training. Three hells, when we had anatomy labs and cut up old cadavers for surgical practice, the professor would walk between our tables with a sandwich in hand, taking bites and critiquing our sutures while spitting crumbs at us. I swear he did it just to annoy us.”

  “Can’t you just use VR for practice? Or for that matter, use some kind of synthetic bodies?”

  “It’s not the same. Might sound a bit morbid, but when you’re around people enough, you can tell what’s a person and what’s not. It takes a combination of senses when you’re performing a surgical procedure. It’s not just the sight, but also the feel, and, I hate to say it, even the smells that clue you in to working with the human body.”

  Lonestar pushed her coffee cup away from her. “I grew up on a ranch. Animals can be gross, but Captain, that really takes the cake.”

  “Again, sorry.” Tag sipped his coffee. He felt the tightened grasp of tension leave his muscles as the warm beverage slipped down his throat. Coren and Sofia had been right; he had needed the short break. After draining the last few drops, he started to stand. “I really need to get back to Sofia and Coren.”

  “Before you do, can I ask you about something?”

  “Okay.” Tag sat back down. “Shoot.”

  “Before Nycho, you asked me if I ever liked killing.”

  Tag let the silence carry between them, waiting with a tickling sense of apprehension lurking at the back of his throat.

  “Why did you ask me that?” she said.

  “I’m sorry,” Tag said. His face felt hot, and he regretted drawing her into his moral dilemma with Alpha. “It was just something I heard from someone else. I wanted to know, I guess, if it was normal.”

  “Right, because you weren’t a trained foot soldier. A trained killer.” Her tone sounded almost accusatory.

  “I’m not.”

  “But you have killed now. You’ve fought the Drone-Mechs. The Dreg. And gods know what or who else you might have to deal with.”

  Again Tag let her words fall on him like little hammers pounding his psyche. Everything sounded rushed and angry. Like she had been letting that brief conversation simmer in her mind until it boiled over, exploding like a failing fusion reactor. He hadn’t expected such an intense reaction.

  Lonestar’s chest heaved as if she had just finished a marathon—or, taking into account her genetic enhancements, three of them. She began again in a softer voice. “Now that you have killed. Now that you have acted like a soldier, do you...” Her eyes met his. A relentless stare. Unbreakable. Fierce. “Do you like taking lives?”

  The inflammatory question burned in his conscience. He wanted to scream that of course he didn’t. He had devoted his life to saving others, to preserving life. He thought of Alpha. For that matter, he had created
life. That was his gods-ordained mission in life. That was why he had become a scientist. Why he had joined a research team. Why he had found satisfaction and a new purpose when his prospects of being trained as a bridge officer had broken like shards of ice against alloy.

  All those thoughts hurtled through his mind faster than the Argo through hyperspace. But all he said was, “No. Never.”

  “Not once?” she asked, a brow raised. She didn’t take her eyes off him. Didn’t blink.

  “Not once,” he repeated, as calmly as possible.

  Her gaze fell to the table, tracing over her hands draped around the cup. “Okay.” He couldn’t tell whether she believed him or not, but interrogating her now to determine what this was all about would likely be a fruitless endeavor. Better to bring it up with Bull later.

  Lonestar emptied her coffee cup and then chucked it into the trash receptacle. “Thanks again for saving Gorenado.” She got up and left Tag with no further explanation. Without looking him in the eye again. The hatch to the corridor clicked shut behind her.

  A lot of strange things had happened since the Argo had first circled Eta-Five and they had run into the Drone-Mechs. But this conversation—or whatever it was—with Lonestar had to be one of the strangest.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  The Argo was only a day from entering normal space. The crew hadn’t spoken much about what they would find when they got there, but Tag could sense their apprehension. It was apparent in the rushed way they focused themselves on other work. Coren and Sofia delved into the mystery of the free Mechanics. Alpha helped them when she wasn’t performing experiments on the Dreg data. Lonestar relentlessly pursued physical therapy—and when her body was worn out, she ran simulated missions in VR. Sumo and Bull constantly trained in the gym and joined Lonestar in the VR missions.

  Sleep seemed to be something to which every one of them had grown a stranger. Tag had experienced the restless sleep shifts in his bunk like everyone else, trying to find sleep, trying to succumb to the exhaustion seeping through him, bone deep. But whenever his eyes started to close, flashes of the Argo exploding under a fusillade of Drone-Mech fire sparked beneath his eyelids. The last free Mechanics turning on him, rabid with nanites. The Montenegro falling apart in a cloud of alloy and spikes of released plasma. His crew, slaughtered by Dreg or Drone-Mechs or that strange sapphire ship. Each relative night on the ship brought some new horror forth from his imagination.