Dark Origins (The Messenger Book 14)

by J. N. Chaney

  “By creative commerce, you mean smuggling, piracy, that sort of thing.”

  Dash clicked his tongue. “They’re not pirates, they’re privateers.”

  Jexin managed a genuine smile, albeit a fleeting one. “What does it mean? That word, Ravan?”

  “Well, in Merchant’s Cant, it means explorer.”

  Jexin turned her head away. “It—that thing—sure wasn’t my idea of what an explorer is all about.”

  Dash firmly shook his head. “No. They might call themselves explorers—hell, they can call themselves puppies and kittens if they want—but it doesn’t make it true. What they are is murderous, psychopathic monsters, and we’re going to stop them.”

  Jexin turned back, her eyes crystal hard. “Destroy them? Like we did the Golden?”

  “Damned right. And build something good, and new, on the ashes of what they used to be.”

  “And what then?”

  “And then we go on with our lives—”

  “Sure. Until the next murderous, psychopathic monsters come along and we start all over again,” Jexin snapped back at him.

  Dash almost flinched from the heat of her gaze, but he didn’t—he was too salty, too tired. Too much of the Messenger, and not enough Dash left to truly know fear from an ally.

  He’d become used to Jexin not only as a skilled mech pilot, but also as an affable, easygoing companion and friend. She’d come a long way from the bitter, rage-filled loner was when they first found her. The sole survivor of a horrific ordeal at the hands of the Rin-ti allied with the Golden, she had taken a long time to even begin opening up. And now, thanks to the Deepers, she’d been dragged through yet another horrific ordeal, and a raw chunk of that old Jexin was back.

  Dash’s instinct was to switch to pep-talk mode, to say inane things about a bright and hopeful future or better days ahead. But he jammed it aside and just shrugged.

  “Maybe. And if they do, we’ll deal with them.”

  “I want to get back to flight operations, Dash,” she said, again trying to push herself up. “I don’t want to just lie here.”

  “Sorry, Jex, but that’s not happening until you heal—”

  “So, what, you’re going to strap me down like the others did—?”

  She stopped and glared at Dash. He met her furious gaze and waited.

  The fury abruptly vanished, like a light being switched off. Desolate gloom replaced it, and she sank back.

  “I’m sorry, Dash. That was—it was wrong of me to—”

  “Try and sit up like that? Damned right it was. You need to rest and recover so I can throw you back into the cockpit of the new Polaris and you can get back to killing Deepers. And the more you thrash around, the longer that’s going to take.” He softened his voice and took her hand, feeling the warmth through her scales. “In the meantime, we’re going to be here for you, Jex. Me, Leira, Amy, and Conover. We’re a team. But we have a hole in it that won’t be filled until you’re back in the battleline.”

  She nodded and squeezed Dash’s hand. Kosan weren’t, as far as Dash knew, capable of actually crying, but her eyes had narrowed, and she struggled to keep them from closing and shutting away the world altogether. It was as close to human tears as her people seemed to get.

  “Thanks, Dash. Again.” She bared her teeth a touch, a weak smile. “If you need me for anything, I’ll be here.”

  Dash nodded back. “Custodian, if she tries to get out of bed or do anything dumb, shoot her.”

  “An unorthodox approach to treatment, but very well. I’ll have an armed security remote standing by.”

  Jexin’s eyes widened again. “He does know you’re joking, right?”

  Dash grinned back as he turned toward the door.

  “Who said I was joking?”

  Dash’s brooding thoughts about Jexin followed like a persistent fly, swirling around him as he headed for the Forge’s fabrication bay. Viktor wanted to update him on their dummy mech program, the one intended to test the viability of employing Deeper machine code to coordinate their firepower. But he couldn’t let go of his worries about Jexin.

  Much of it, of course, was because she was his friend, and he’d come to care about her. He was keenly aware that she’d faced two gruesome ordeals, perpetrated first by the Rin-ti and then by the Deepers. That was two more than anyone should have to face. The first had ignited a burning rage deep inside her that leaked out in battle as a reckless, almost self-destructive obsession with killing and destroying. Combine that with the fearsome power of a mech like the Polaris and it was a recipe for disaster. Dash had actually considered pulling her from flight operations because of it.

  As he stepped into the elevator, Dash reflected on how much she’d settled down, dampened into a still aggressive but also controlled and deliberate competence. It had largely been thanks to the influence of the other pilots—Leira’s sardonic wit, Amy’s bubbly cheer, and Conover’s goofy brilliance. He liked to think he had something to do with it, too. Now, though, she’d slid back, showing hints of the old Jexin, flickers of the same sort of viciousness that bothered him so much about the N’Teel.

  “You are brooding,” Custodian said.

  “Am I?”

  “You just sighed. Since you are alone, I presume it wasn’t done to affect the course of a conversation. That implies brooding, an internalized form of—”

  “I know what brooding is, thanks,” Dash snapped, then sighed again. “I’m sorry, Custodian. You’re right, I am brooding.”

  “There is no need to apologize. I find the expression of the entire range of human emotions interesting.”

  “Oh. Well, glad I could be your experiment.”

  “Another acerbic answer. I gather that it also arises from your brooding, which, in turn, arises from your concern about Jexin.”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much it. I’m worried about her.”

  “I believe that she will make a full physical recovery. But it’s not her physical state you’re worried about, is it?”

  The elevator hummed along for a moment.

  “No. It’s her emotional state. I mean, to go through what she’s gone through, twice.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what this is going to do to her. And I can’t have a mech pilot that I can’t rely on. That’s kind of the exact opposite of what we’re trying to do with this Deeper machine code, getting the mechs to cooperate even more.”

  “Understood. I believe I have a solution I can propose to you.”

  Dash blinked. “You do? You’ve got something to help deal with, well, feelings?”

  “As I said, I’ve found the study of emotions interesting. I have also found it enlightening. Based on that, I believe I can offer a solution to your concerns about Jexin.”

  Dash gave the elevator’s ceiling an impressed look. “Okay, lay it on me.”

  “I will require some time to enact it. Once I’m ready, I will let you know.”

  “Ooh, a surprise. Very cool, Custodian.”

  “This emotion, the one you’re expressing now, it is delight?”

  “Actually, yeah. I guess it kinda is. And this next one?” He smiled. “It’s gratitude. Thanks, Custodian.”

  “Okay, Sentinel, are we ready?” Dash asked.

  “We are. Forge range control has cleared us to go live. The target drones are in position, as are the test mechs.”

  Dash let his attention flick around the Archetype’s tactical display as Sentinel spoke. The test range for the linked mechs was a cubic quarter light-year, located nearly a half light-year from the Kingsport. Technically, it was outside the normal range of the Forge’s range-and-fire controllers, but Dash wasn’t taking any chances. They were about to effectively hand over a chunk of control of two Perseids to what amounted to repurposed Deeper machine code, so he wanted to be ready for anything.

  Hence, the ranges being set up so far from the Kingsport, the Forge being on a heightened state of alert, the presence of not just the Archetype and Pulsar, but also
the Herald and the Slipwing. If one or both of the Perseids did go rogue, they should be able to pound them into scrap in no time. They’d even removed their translation drives and replaced them with equivalent dead weight, in case the Perseids tried to make a run for it and give the Deepers access to some Realm tech.

  “Okay, Viktor, this is your show. You give the word when you’re ready,” Dash said.

  Viktor, piloting the Slipwing, was the exercise controller. Conover and Elois, who’d been closely involved in helping him, were also present—Conover in his mech, and Elois aboard the Herald. A moment passed before Viktor replied.

  “Roger that. All exercise stations, we are going hot. We’ll start with the dark-lances only, minimum power settings.” A pause. “Begin exercise, drones away.”

  Dash smiled. Viktor was normally such an easygoing, laid-back guy. As soon as he got on a comm, though, he was nothing but clipped business.

  Dash watched the two drones accelerate, making an attack run on the Perseids. Lori and one of her Orion pilots were also aboard the Herald, flying the two dummy mechs remotely. The Deeper machine code should only affect the coordination of weapons fire, so somebody still had to fly them.

  The two Perseids accelerated toward the drones in a standard leader-wingman configuration. Viktor had initiated three of the six drones, which would fly under the control of Kristin, the Pulsar’s AI. She drew their maneuvers from a database of observed Deeper maneuvers and tactics to maximize realism. Sentinel kept watch as a backup and recorded the whole thing.

  The drones entered the maximum effective range of the Perseids’ dark-lances. They immediately began a series of scissor maneuvers, weaving back and forth to confound enemy targeting. As they did, the dark-lances began to fire, rotating their combined shots across the three drones in rapid succession. One after another, the drones died, cutting their drives and coasting.

  “That looked pretty good,” Dash said.

  “It was. Compared to the baseline established by Conover and Amy yesterday in the same exercise, the drones experienced a nineteen percent increase in destructive energy over the same period of time.”

  “Excellent. Okay, carry on.”

  They repeated the run, this time using all six drones. The Perseids took ten percent fewer hits and killed the six drones sixteen percent faster than Conover and Amy had managed in the baseline exercise.

  “These things are making me look bad,” Conover grouched.

  “If they didn’t—and I don’t mean just you, Conover, but all of us—then there wouldn’t be much point, would there?” Dash said.

  “Yeah, I guess every parent wants their kids to surpass them.”

  “I don’t,” Benzel put in. “I’d use them as rungs in a ladder to get what I wanted, if it came to it.”

  Dash smiled. He’d long since learned that Benzel might have a crusty exterior, but inside, he was so soft he was nearly gelatinous.

  They watched as the exercises were repeated, each time made more complex. The drones began to maneuver more aggressively, while the Perseids had more weapon systems brought on-line—missile launchers, scattershots, and finally rail guns. They couldn’t realistically simulate the last, so their final run left all six drones as wreckage. When the range was cleared, a salvage tug moved in to reclaim the scrap for recycling through the Forge’s fabricators.

  “Okay, Sentinel, what’s the verdict?”

  “Overall, the efficiency of the Perseids’ fire was improved by twenty-one percent, compared to the baseline.”

  “And no sign of any Deeper shenanigans?”

  “I monitored the execution of every instance of code in every logic module throughout the tests. There is nothing whatsoever to indicate any capacity for Deeper infiltration. So, no, no shenanigans.”

  “Okay, Viktor, this is still your show. You get the final say.”

  “I couldn’t watch things the way Sentinel can, but the new software did exactly what it was designed to do. Bottom line—I believe we have a winner,” Viktor replied.

  “Okay, then. We’ll run one more set of tests with their Perseid, per the plan, just to confirm more than two mechs can work together. And if it’s a clean run, then we’ll install our spiffy new software in the Archetype and do a live-fire test with real Deepers as targets.”

  “Um, you sure you want to start with our biggest, baddest mech, Dash?” Viktor asked.

  “I do, because it’s run by our most badass AI.”

  “Make sure you tell Custodian that,” Sentinel said.

  Dash laughed. “He’s the one with his virtual finger on the environmental controls in my quarters. So let’s keep this as our little secret.”

  13

  Dash kept a wary eye on the operational display. Lomas had reported frequent contacts with Deeper forces in the volume of space ahead of him, just spinward of League territory. If there was anywhere they’d be likely to encounter the aliens, it would be here.

  He switched his attention back to tactical. The two Perseids, now with their translation drives restored and fully powered-up, kept station firmly to his left and right rear flanks. Lori flew one, and one of her more skilled and trusted pilots flew the other. Ten thousand klicks back, Leira led Conover and Amy in their mechs, with Viktor in the Slipwing making their wedge formation into a diamond.

  “Dash, can you tell Leira to take that stupid thing off of her mech? It gives me the creeps every time I see it,” Amy said.

  Dash smiled. Leira had mounted the head of the Battle Prince she’d hacked apart during their rescue of Jexin on the Swift’s chest—not the biological head of the creature inside the Battle Prince, but the mechanical head of the actual construct. She claimed it was just a middle finger to the Deepers, but Dash suspected it was something more than that. It was, he thought, probably a way of coping with her lingering feelings of guilt over Jexin getting captured in the first place.

  “Hey, if you don’t like it, don’t look,” Leira said.

  “Doesn’t matter. I still know it’s there,” Amy shot back.

  Dash cut in. “Yeah, Leira. She knows it’s there, just like you know I’ve got that one birthmark on my butt cheek. Did you know that, Amy? That I’ve got a splotchy birthmark on my butt cheek? It’s shaped like something known as Vermont, or so I’m told, which was an old geographical distinction on Earth.”

  “I do now, and, um—eww. Also, did you date a geography teacher or something?”

  “No, but Leira reads extensively. She’s truly a woman with many layers, and by the way, you’re not thinking about her trophy anymore, are you?”

  “No.”

  “You’re welcome—”

  “I hate to interrupt this amusing banter, but three Deeper ships have entered maximum passive scanning range. It appears to be a patrol of a destroyer and two corvette class vessels,” Sentinel said.

  Dash watched the icons pop up on the operational display and gave himself a satisfied nod.

  “Hello, targets,” he said, accelerating the Archetype onto an intercept course. He couldn’t power the Blur drive up to anything resembling full power, though, because the Perseids weren’t upgraded to hexacore standards.

  “Was this really how little acceleration we used to have?” Dash asked, grimacing at what felt like a slow crawl toward the Deepers.

  “You never complained about it being an issue at the time,” Sentinel replied.

  “Well, no, I had nothing to compare it to.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Puts me in my place,” Dash muttered, then looked back to tactical. The threat indicator had just lit up, the three Deeper ships dancing along the very edge of the display.

  “Lori, SITREP?” he asked.

  “Locked and loaded, Dash. Itching to give this new fire control system a try.”

  “Yeah, me too. Trouble is, with six mechs and the Slipwing barreling toward them, they’re probably going to run. Leira, you guys hang back. I don’t want to chase these guys away, I wanna fight them.”
>
  “You sure about that, Dash? If anything goes wrong with the Archetype, we won’t be able to catch you.”

  “Eh, Sentinel and I will manage.”

  A long pause. Dash could tell Leira wasn’t happy about it. He could imagine her thinking about Jexin, and how she’d lost her. But, to her credit, she swallowed her misgivings in favor of the bigger picture.

  “Fine. But if you get even a hint of something going wrong, you sing out.”

  “Yes, mother.”

  Dash watched as the three trailing mechs and the Slipwing fell back. Even so, the Deepers might yet spook. They’d encountered the fearsome power of the Archetype often enough that Dash was probably the top entry in their hit-list database.

  But they didn’t. Instead, they took a slight deviation to close the range a bit. It was probably to see how the three mechs approaching them would react. Dash didn’t vary at all-- he wanted this to look exactly like what it was: a direct attack, and a potentially overconfident one, as he’d left almost half of his available combat power behind.

  He wondered if there were ambitious Deepers. Maybe the captain—assuming such things existed on Deeper ships, because they weren’t even sure of that—had designs on destroying and capturing the Archetype. Or maybe ambition, as a concept, wasn’t even remotely applicable to them. They just didn’t know because they’d never been able to interact with a living Deeper in any meaningful way.

  Although, Jexin had.

  He made a mental note to discuss that with Custodian, whether it was possible to use hypnosis, or a brain scan, or something similar to retrieve Jexin’s memories of her encounter with the Ravan, the Explorer.