Mikkhael’s voice reverberated powerfully, augmented by the microphone within the helmet he wore. “I need twelve hours of undisturbed sleep. I do not require any food or drink at this time.” He proceeded to walk past the stunned guards towards what was obviously the tunnel leading deeper into the base. His escort awkwardly raced to keep up. Mikkhael intended to pay more attention as he passed the Rebel MARS units, but exhaustion overwhelmed him. His goal was to make it to the room before he collapsed; there was not time to waste.
The mixed group of pilot’s still wearing full combat environmental suits had just formed a sense of cohesion when together they passed next to a bank of computer terminals and monitors. Mikkhael paused, turning to the person operating the array. He was a younger man similar in age to Mikkhael; skinny, with a full beard topped by a head of thin jet-black hair, drinking from a steaming mug, one of the few not wearing a uniform within the hangar. “Just a word of advice, Starkindler is equipped with a fully functioning AI and has instructions to defend itself in case of any attempt to compromise its systems without express permissions, both physically and electronically.” The stop was as random as his start; Mikkhael’s escort found themselves caught off guard, their anger continuing to boil, about to turn physically violent against him.
The young man turned to face Mikkhael, stuttering for a reply as he recovered from the surprise at being addressed. He opened his mouth to speak when Aurora’s voice spoke through a speaker at the computer array. “They were completely unprepared for their servers to be compromised internally. The level of internal security is beyond inept. I have already assumed control of their network, as well as cut access to outside communications and exits leading from the base. I’m assuming control of all life support functions for the next 72 hours. Their defense grid will remain in their hands as previously agreed. Internal monitoring systems show the base commander is en-route and will arrive at your present location momentarily.”
The technician spit out his coffee, dropping the cup he had been holding, spilling its contents unnoticed on the floor as he began typing furiously, confirming to the other Rebels what Aurora had done. “Damnit! She wasn’t kidding. I can view the networks but I’m totally locked out!”
A dozens guns were instantly pointed at Mikkhael; expressions of shock, outrage, and anger clearly present on the faces of the men and women surrounding him, radiating through their physical stances. Aurora cut off the threats to his physical wellbeing, “If anything happens to my pilot, I will immediately cut off life support to the main hangar. He is not to be touched or harmed in any way.”
The stalemate ensued for the longest thirty seconds of any of their lives until the base commander once more appeared in front of Mikkhael, heavily armed guard in tow, also training their weapons on him.
The commander started to speak but Mikkhael waved his hand weakly, interrupting the Commander. It was barely all he could do to stand. “My presence here must remain a secret. Nothing, including information and personnel, can be allowed to leave this base at all costs that may jeopardize my mission. My AI will allow all incoming transmissions to proceed apace, but anything outgoing must be filtered and authorized by only you. If you have any questions just ask her and she will grant you permission.”
Mikkhael removed what looked like an old-fashioned wristwatch, handing it to the commander. “This is the key you will need to access your systems while I am asleep, and must remain on your person at all times. Attempts to circumvent her restrictions, an attack on my person, or any attempt to access Starkindler without her permission will result in serious consequences. I urge you to restrain yourselves.”
He was going to say more but Aurora suddenly declared, “Vitals are extremely weak!” overly loud on a matching wristband on his other arm. Her warning had come too late; Mikkhael fainted. No one moved to catch him, their surprise was absolute. Unconscious and with nothing to stop his fall, he fell heavily to the floor. The sound of his head encased in a helmet skipping heavily off the hard rock floor echoed loudly in the cavernous hangar that was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
Chapter 6 – Mount Olympus
“Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven for?” – Robert Browning
He woke up feeling weak, disoriented, and hung-over. It was a struggle to regain consciousness. He tried to fade away back to sleep, but an insistent high-pitched beeping sound combined with Aurora’s voice droning repeatedly that he had passed out for over fourteen hours and needed to return to reality rattled through his brain, preventing him from finding any comfort. His mouth was dry, he felt light headed and dizzy, and his skull felt as if it was about to explode. Prying open his cake-dried eyes to look around the strange room, the realization dawned on him that he had utterly no idea where he was.
He sat up slowly, groaning with effort, as he located the incessant beeping sound on a nearby bedside table. The offending sound was coming from the watch, which had been removed from his wrist presumably after he had occupied the bed. He fumbled around the bedside table, attempting to silence Aurora’s screeching voice emitting from the communicator as pain blossomed behind his forehead, making the room spin and the small table shoot out from under his groping hand.
As he looked up from the bed where he had collapsed face first, he again focused on the watch still bleating from the floor where it had landed, the last few days’ events replayed in a rapid out of order blur. Slowly the fog and his thoughts cleared. He put his hands to his temples and tried to rub the piercing migraine into the background in an attempt to concentrate enough and finally silence the incessant beeping.
He stared at the watch, willing it to spontaneously combust as he felt his fury growing through his inability to reach the damned thing, seriously contemplating the murder of whoever had placed it so far away. Satisfying mental images played through his mind as he imagined smashing the watch with a hammer, so much so that he began scanning the room in search of a weapon to do just that when the hydraulic door hissed open.
He stared at the god-sent figure that remained out of focus as it hovered near the fallen bedside table. It leaned down; and then the screeching sound silenced. The angel stooped again; collecting a glass off the floor that he had unknowingly spilled, and then disappeared into a small room he had not yet noticed. The sound of running water followed, and then almost as quickly stopped. The figure moved back into range and helped him sit up.
He took the glass, gulping the water down in unabashed greed, coughing as his constricted throat recovered from the sudden liquid onslaught, and stared in confusion at the bottom of the glass, unable to comprehend how it had emptied so quickly. The figure effortlessly pulled the glass from his hands, placed it back on the table, then stretched his arm out and rolled up his sleeve, pinning it under its own arm. A sharp pain in his arm notified him that a needle had pierced his skin. Weakly, he tried to fight back but was powerless to do anything against the demons firm hold on him.
Then all at once, his blurry vision shifted into sharp clarity; the fog lifting entirely from his mind as the migraine moved from the front to the back of his skull, and was then instantly forgotten. The weakness that plagued him faded as strength surged throughout his body. The sequence of recent events sorted themselves out in his mind with a satisfying click.
He instantly realized that he had collapsed from exhaustion shortly after arriving at the rebel base, hidden of all places in one of, if not the most well-known Martian geographical feature there was, Mount Olympus, the famous shield volcano on top of the Tharsis Bulge. He focused on the details of the room he was in; pleasantly shocked by the realization he was not occupying a prison cell. The soft bed covered in sterile white hospital style sheets was the only furniture aside from the bedside table that adorned the stark room; he appreciated the simplicity of the room for what it was. If anything, he was in someone’s personal quarters.
He finally remembered the heaven-sent figure, turning to look at her as he
suddenly felt the sharp pinch of another needle pierce his skin. This time he was alert enough that when he jerked his arm, he nearly wrenched free from the iron grip holding it in place. A vial attached to the needle began filling with his blood, and then finally he focused on the person holding the needle. His mouth went even dryer than before as he took in the white lab coat, short cropped brunette hair, and glasses perched on the nose of a woman who he guessed was in her early 50’s but he could not be sure. He shivered involuntarily, he hated doctors and all things related to them.
She finished up quickly, her movements practiced and sure as she removed the needle, collected the tools of her trade and left the room almost as silently as she entered, leaving him in peace to reassemble his dignity. Or, it would have been peaceful if not for the fact that he was in an unknown room by himself in a rebel mountain base that his AI program was holding hostage. He looked down at his arm and held a finger over the pinprick where the needle had pierced his skin, allowing his blood to finish coagulating while planning his next move. As if on cue, his stomach growled intensely, reminding him that he had not eaten in quite a while.
Finding food became his first priority. As he stood, the room spun again, but this time he was prepared for the eventuality, placing his feet far apart on the floor with his hands against the wall to steady himself. He let his eyes catch up to the spinning room, and then walked over to collect the watch and place it back on his wrist. Aurora had at some point wisely stopped speaking through the cursed thing, and chose not to push matters at the moment, lest he overreact by “accidentally” dropping the communicator into a shred bin. In fact, he passed a trash receptacle in front of the bathroom door and found himself actively debating the merits of dumping the watch in the bin when a timely rumble in his stomach reminded him of higher priorities.
A brief shower and a change into a comfortable, solid white uniform which had been neatly laid out on his bed while he was in the bathroom improved his mood until his stomach growled louder than ever, reminding him of the basic necessities. He stepped through the door and found himself greeted by a sullen looking female guard pointing a compact automatic rifle directly at his reproductive system.
She was older than him and nearly as tall, which was rare for most woman, possessing dark black hair cut just below her ears. Her blue eyes and weathered face held no expression, stoically daring him to provoke her. She was dressed in a stark grey uniform without insignia. He grinned wryly. Things were now clear how much the rebels appreciated his hostile takeover of their base, and her actions let him know unequivocally where he stood with them. He would not have to engage in politics for which he had no patience or skill in, and could now cut straight to the point of matters.
He waited awkwardly for a moment, alternating his gaze between the guards aim and her cold, expressionless face, before nervously concluding that her silent threat was pure bluster. Taking a chance, he turned his back on her and began walking down the narrow tunnel towards in pursuit of food, the guard following behind. She maintained a constant distance of two meters, her compact rifle pointed at the small of his back. There was little chance he could disarm her without being killed, not that he wanted to try.
The environmental scrubbers of the base were obviously maintained well as food was one of the hardest scents to remove from the air and he smelled absolutely no hint of it; everyone’s survival within the mountain depended on them. Aurora issued directions through the watch, steering him through machine-bored out tunnels, the surfaces of which had been long since smoothed by the passage of time. Softly glowing lamps recessed into the center of the ceiling pooled sun yellow circles on the polished rock floors.
Together, the odd pair passed other tunnels that intersected their route, all of which were exactly the same as the one down which they traveled. Uniformed rebels stopped and stared as they passed, gossiping in hushed voices to one another. Occasionally they passed hydraulic doors set into the walls; the light blue of flickering computer screens set at chest level identified the ownership or purpose of each room they passed. Aurora spoke aloud what he was thinking. “This place has shifted from a place of war to a home for these people. They have become comfortable here.”
Aurora steered him to a group mess hall, her hack of the mountain’s internal systems long since complete. Mikkhael did not hesitate in following her advice. His guard followed silently through it all; her gun, pace, and expression never wavered. The mess hall was moderately full and could seat a few hundred people at once. By the time he collected a tray of food and sat at a table, the mess hall was reduced to standing room only except for a bubble of empty space that surrounded and moved with him.
He found a seat at a table that emptied instantly and began to eat in silence. The guard stood behind and to the side of him, her weapon still pointed directly at his back. But her threat was entirely forgotten at the sight of his first cooked meal in he could not remember how long. It took all of his willpower to savor each bite instead of wolfing down the vat grown bacon, home grown vegetables, and double portion of flavorless nutrient rich goop before running back for seconds.
Halfway done with his meal, he watched through his peripheral vision as people were shoved aside. A figure emerged from the press to stand directly across from him, slamming her tiny hands down on the table as she did so. She was not much older than him, very attractive, medium-length blonde hair, green eyes radiating from a small frame, wearing a leather bomber jacket and khaki military style pants, as well as clearly incensed for reasons he did not know why.
“Enjoying yourself asshole? While you were taking a nap, most of us got work to do, but can’t do it because you showed up and started acting all high and mighty. Time out’s over, so fix it now or I’ll blow your cocky ass to hell.” The petite blonde bundle of dynamite stared expectantly at him.
He had no idea what to say in reply, so he just kept chewing his food while staring up at her. He held eye contact with her, which, if anything, seemed to enrage her further.
“What the hell do you want from us, you cocky piece of shit? Put the fork down or do us all a favor and choke to death on it!” She screamed at him.
He lingeringly scanned the remaining food on his plate before deciding to try talking with the woman, assuming from her attitude that no matter what he said was going to be wrong. “It’s impolite to interrupt someone so rudely while they are eating.” The sarcasm rolled off his tongue.
The blonde’s eyes went wide with rage. The petite ball of fury’s left hand curled into a fist, her tiny body tensing in preparation to strike at him all while her right hand methodically drew a service pistol from the holster on her belt, pointing the gun down at his stomach in one smooth well-practiced motion.
Mikkhael took mental note that she was left-handed while placing his right hand holding a silverware knife under the table next to his knee, out of sight from everyone else in the mess hall, praying he would not need to use it. He continued, “Do you speak for the base, its personnel, and its commander, or are you asking me to simply explain my methods and reasons to satisfy you on a personal level?” He was going to continue, but she cut him off.
“You wish you could get the chance to satisfy me on a personal level, dickweed, but I’ll kill you if you even think about trying!” She screamed at him, spittle flew from her mouth, landing on him, but she held her position, not aggravating the situation further by striking out at him.
Mikkhael could not help sighing; he had missed the most common time period in an average person’s life to attempt to figure out women. He knew he was out of his league, especially with this one, who was trembling with barely suppressed fury. He also noticed Aurora had gone eerily quiet, while his female guard did nothing but watch the entire episode impassively. Mikkhael assumed that if the blonde pilot did attempt to strike or shoot him, the guard would continue to stand in the background watching, which made him wonder what exactly the guard’s responsibilities actually were.
Women
in general were nearly impossible for him to figure out, but now it seemed they had all managed to gang up on him at the same time. He eyed the piece of bacon still in his hand and surreptitiously scanned the room; everyone was watching the exchange as best they could, craning their necks in unrestrained curiosity. Half of them were in various stages of suppressing smiles so he assumed this conversation would not be catastrophic if he lost. This was a good sign, because he was almost certainly going to lose. He had been running with the asshole persona this long, he decided to continue with it.
“What is it with you women and pointing guns at my manhood? First, remove the gun, or point it somewhere besides my crotch. Second, let me at least finish the bacon, because it’s bacon, and I don’t know how you got bacon all the way out here, but I want to savor it while I can.” He stopped and waited, knowing that there were only two possible outcomes while he took another slow, satisfying, crunchy bite.
The tiny pilot huffed loudly and without hesitating launched into a never-ending verbal tirade that made him blush and half the room erupt in laughter; all while he sat there continuing to slowly chew the food left on his tray.
Finished, Mikkhael sadly pushed the tray towards the middle of the table. It had been his first cooked meal in four days and he would just have to get used to that fact as part of a new normal he supposed. He pulled a data slate from a pocket and asked Aurora to check on the status of the base commander, all while the flabbergasted blonde-haired woman continued screaming at him, emphasizing certain words with jerking movements from the hand that held the gun.
“He is expecting you,” Aurora quickly replied. Directions to the base commander’s location promptly appeared on the screen.
Mikkhael stood up and walked to the end of the table, where he stopped as suddenly as he had begun, the female guard’s gun ramming into his back as she failed to stop in time, her first mistake. He turned to face the blonde. “You might as well come along; best to have everyone who wants me dead in the same room all at once, makes me have to repeat myself less.” He did not turn around to see if the pilot followed, he knew she had. The mess hall behind them erupted in a mixture of laughter and excitement, people whooping and whistling at the back and forth drama.
Starkindler (MechaVerse Series Book 1) Page 12
