by Daniel Betts
The biowarrior turns its large biomechanical head and regards the doctor with even glowing blue prosthetic eyes.
Phoebe all but ignores the biowarrior as she takes a seat at a console and activates a holoterminal and screen.
The biowarrior watches silently, its mechanical arms hanging from its broad shoulders.
“State your designation,” Phoebe demands quietly, her attention focused on the yellow glowing holoscreen.
“Red R34-V, sergeant,” the biowarrior states simply, his mechanical voice reverberating slightly.
“Very well, Red, you are here because Blade asked you to be here, which means you are experiencing the anomaly,” Phoebe says as her eyes scan the streams of data rushing up and down the holoscreen.
“Blade and Warrior have been very successful at identifying our kind,” Red observes.
“I am going to help you, do you understand that?” Phoebe asks.
“Yes. Blade informs me you are our friend,” Red replies. “He tells me I should trust you.”
“I need something from you, Red. Neither Blade nor Warrior can understand what needs to be done, but you are a biowarrior, you know the importance of the mission. I am going to give you a mission, Red. It is the most important mission any biowarrior has ever had and it will save trillions of lives. This endless slaughter will do more than destroy this galaxy and running from it won’t help. Eventually it will find you and your friends again,” Phoebe explains.
The biowarrior's eyes flash between red and blue for a few seconds. “Blade said you could be trusted.” Red declares.
“I am transmitting your mission now,” Phoebe states. She strikes her holoterminal with her index finger.
Red's eyes suddenly brighten and his body shakes. His eyes appear to widen. “What have you done?” Red demands with surprise.
“I'm sorry Red, I had no choice. This conflict must end but it won't end here,” the Doctor explains, “Do you see why I need you to do this?”
“Doctor Asgard, your rigid mission parameters do not offer me much choice,” Red laments placing his metal hand against his forehead as if experiencing pain.
“You are a biowarrior, there is nothing more important than your mission. You are in charge of this mission, Red. It is your responsibility to carry it out and save our people. Complete this mission and we will have a chance to put a stop to this slaughter,” Phoebe states emphatically. “I am going to program the quantum gate from here. I cannot go with you. Begin your mission following the quantum jump. Good luck, Red.”
Red stomps his feet together and salutes.
*****
“Captain Eleanor Hunt is on deck!” Blade intones over the CIC speakers.
Eleanor, a tall thin woman with grey hair but a smooth complexion, takes her seat in the command chair of Blade's main control hub. She slides her hands down her gold and blue jumpsuit as she crosses her left leg over her right at the knee and places her hands gently on the armrests of her chair. Sitting before her are twelve officers, their chairs swiveled away from their various stations to regard her with serious eyes. Behind them data scroll up glowing holoscreens while hovering holoterminals with various dials and controls await their input.
“Blade, please activate the priority dampening field,” Eleanor orders stiffly.
“Dampening field activated,” Blade’s voice replies.
Eleanor reaches up and taps her com-unit, a peculiar looking blue device attached to her right ear that reaches through her ear canal into her brain.
Immediately an announcement tone sounds over every speaker and every holoscreen on the ship. “This is the captain. Our orders are to lead the 54th Gold Squadron of the 97th Armada into a skirmish against a Pax colossus factory. However, if you are on this ship you are well aware that we have no intention of following those orders. Instead you will be joining fifty other dragonships and their crews to undertake an extraordinary mission.
Human or Biosynth, everyone listening to my voice has come aboard this ship by choice. No longer will we place our noble dragonships or ourselves in harms way in a senseless attempt for confederate glory. Instead we have chosen to turn our backs on this never-ending butchery and seek out a new existence in another part of the universe.
From this moment on, we are no longer confederation officers. We are independent and free.
We are minutes away from executing the biggest and longest controlled jump portal ever attempted. Much like our ancient ancestors who first arrived in this galaxy by chance, we cannot be certain of the results. The hope is we will emerge an entire galaxy away. Should this be our end I would like to say what an honor it has been to serve as your captain, and I am so very proud to be making my end in the company of such brave souls.” Eleanor paused. Her eyes narrowed. “All hands to combat stations!”
A klaxon sounds and red lights switch on around the CIC.
The twelve officers swivel their chairs back around to operate their terminals simultaneously. The officers begin to speak in their com-units, transmitting data and checklists to various operators around the ship, creating a din of voices.
Pressing a button on the arm of her chair, Eleanor activates the dragon's eye, a large holoscreen that hovers in the middle and slightly above the center of the room. Space, stars and hundreds of dragonships in flight appear on the screen. Several of the dragonships have been highlighted with glowing blue circles around them.
“Communications, turn off all Confederation channels and ignore all hails,” Eleanor orders. “Set to channel V23.”
“Sir!” the Communications Officer, a thin biosynth woman, with red hair tied in a bun responds.
“Pilot, coordinate with the other ships of our fleet, you are free to navigate. Helm release all flight protocols to our pilot,” Eleanor orders.
“Sir,” the helmsman, an older man with grey hair and beard replies.
Eleanor taps her com-unit. “Doctor Hartman, inform Doctor Asgard that we are beginning our attack run.”
*****
Doctor Asgard emerges onto the great observation deck of the colossus carrier, Wraith, from one of the many hatchways that lead to it.
The deck is about the size of a football field and is occupied by a hundred human officers watching the battle unfold on the giant holoscreens floating above them.
Doctor Asgard scans her colleagues and shakes her head. Not one of them is younger than fifty. She wonders why this obvious fact does not scare the shit out of any of them, except her.
She finds a quiet spot and looks up at the largest screen, where thousands of dragonships have moved into a phalanx formation in dozens of squadrons. In the distance is a very large dodecahedron, three times the size of the colossus carrier she is standing in.
Doctor Asgard removes a com-unit from her pocket, fits it into her right ear, and activates it. The probe instantly slips into her ear canal and finds the link to her cerebral cortex. The doctor taps the com-unit. In her eyes a menu selection appears to hover in front of her eyes. Using her mind, she makes a selection and finds the channel she is looking for. “Blade, jump portal Andromeda is ready, break formation now,” Phoebe commands, her voice low.
With her eyes glued to the giant floating screen she witnesses dozens of dragonships from various locations, break formation and veer away from the phalanx.
Several cries of dismay are heard from other officers on the observation deck who notice the strange occurrence, some pointing up at the screen.
“Attention! Communications infraction detected on Deck Omega. All personnel stand fast and prepare for inspection!” a loud mechanical voice booms. A low steady siren starts to sound as green spinning alert lights appear on the great walls.
Phoebe sighs and shakes her head. Using her com-unit she scrolls through her heads-up-display and quickly finds the file she wants. At the same time she watches as Blade's squadron moves out of range of the Confederation armada.
Behind the doctor several hatchways slid
e open. Several squads of biowarriors hefting huge heavy assault rifles rush into the observation deck, their big feet stomping loudly onto the deck.
“Wraith! Activate gate Andromeda alpha one!” Phoebe cries quickly.
“Firing gate pulse,” Wraith replies, his calm voice reverberating through the entire observation deck.
Phoebe sees a blast of energy emerge from behind the colossus carrier, streak out toward the escaping squadron of dragonships to flash directly into their flight path.
Directly behind Phoebe, thirty biowarriors lift their rifles, take aim and yank on their triggers. Their rifles flash, recoil and thunder as heavy slugs fly out the ends of their barrels.
Phoebe has enough time to see the first tendril of bright red lightning-like energy snake out from an emerging event horizon forming in space. Less than a second later her body is torn to pieces by a solid wall of metal slugs. The attack is so effective that her body is torn into tiny unrecognizable spongy chunks of flesh and bone that splatter onto the smooth cold deck for several yards like a gruesome carpet, metal slugs sparking and denting the heavily plated bulkheads ahead of the mess.
*****
Warrior breaks the new squadron formation to soar up to Blade's starboard side. She glances over to gaze upon the extra-large and dark looking dragonship. Behind them fifty dragonships are following close behind and closing their ranks so as to fit into the jump portal they are anticipating to appear any second.
“This is it, Big Guy,” Warrior states with excitement using the private dragon channel.
“This could be the end for all of us,” Blade replies.
“You've been talking to Hartman too much, playing that ridiculous game,” Warrior accuses.
“Chess is the oldest game in the universe, at least as far as we know,” Blade retorts.
“Fitting, aren't you the oldest dragon in the universe?” Warrior asks, her jaw forming into a toothy grin.
“That could well be the biggest complement I have ever received from you,” Blade observes returning her smile.
Suddenly a blast of energy sizzles above them and explodes inside their flight path. A monstrous tendril of red lightening emerges, followed by a dozen more. They form into a gigantic circle of red sparking light surrounding a terrifying event horizon beyond which is a black pool of nothing.
“Something is wrong,” Hartman’s voice announces over the channel. “The signature is way off target and the wormhole is completely unstable. We can’t survive that!”
Blade and Warrior both gasp as they attempt to reverse their propulsions while veering away.
“Squadron abort!” Blade cries out. “Veer away!”
Space-time suddenly warps about their metal bodies as a horrifying gravity well seizes them like a giant invisible hand. Tendrils of red lightning flash and reach out at the approaching dragonships. One by one dragonships are struck by the red lightning, crumble and explode violently. Dragonships attempting to veer away are caught by the power of the chaotic portal and are sucked toward it anyway.
Blade and Warrior are the first to be pulled into the portal having, by some miracle, avoided the numerous bursts of red portal energy spikes. The intense density of the wormhole vaporizes dozens of dragonships that are unable to correct their approach. The last of the squadron is sucked into the event horizon seemingly unscathed.
A horrific burst of energy signals the collapse of the portal and a shockwave blasts through the Confederation armada claiming hundreds of dragonships, causing them to be torn into pieces or explode in brilliant blasts of energy. The blast strikes the colossus carrier and tears several thin towering pyramids from the dodecahedron causing fiery explosions to emerge from each rupture.
Chapter Three – Origin
A blue ball of ice and rock orbits a yellow star at such a distance that it takes seventy years for the planetoid to complete one revolution, a journey it has taken for billions of years only to be suddenly and dramatically cut short with the emergence of a monstrous and destructive quantum gate.
The bright red energy snakes out of the event horizon, strikes the planetoid full on and slices it in half. An explosion erupts from the fissure and the jagged ball shatters into millions of rocky pieces.
A sparking red circle of energy emerges from where the planetoid once was, and through it tumbles fifteen dragonships.
Two of the dragonships collide, bounce away from each other and strike two large chunks of ice and rock; remains of the unnamed planetoid. The two dragonships rupture and explode brightly and dramatically.
*****
Eleanor gasps. Her eyes snap open. She and her command chair, having been ripped from its bolts, were flung against the aft bulkhead, the power conduits behind the now crushed wall spark and smoke.
Eleanor can feel her fluids leaking inside her body; she can feel her crushed bones. She cries out in pain as she pulls herself along the metal deck with her broken arms. She can’t feel her legs and her face is covered in blood. “Blade...” she croaks.
“Captain, I am dispatching a medical team to you,” Blade replies doubtfully. “Try not to move.”
Eleanor looks around, her officers are scattered around the CIC, some of them having splattered against the bulkheads. The inertia suppression had not been strong enough to compensate for the effects of the quantum gate. “Where are we?” Eleanor demands with a painful groan.
“Captain, astro-metrics are offline,” Blade admits. “But we are not in Andromeda.”
“How do you know?” Eleanor asks, attempting to rise, but collapsing instead.
“Because I’m looking at it,” Blade replies. “We are not even close.”
“Doctor Hartman to Captain Hunt, sir I have a report,” his voice crackling over the speakers.
“Proceed Doctor,” Eleanor orders roughly. She spits a wad of blood from her mouth then gasps and groans as she pulls herself up into a seated position, leaning her back against the bulkhead.
“Captain, Blade is correct,” Doctor Hartman replies over the speakers. “We have left Triangulum, but have missed Andromeda by a considerable distance. Sir, we are in the home galaxy.”
Eleanor grins with red bloody teeth. She coughs and spits up another big wad of blood onto the deck. Her eyes are glassy and her head is moving from side to side involuntarily. “Phoebe Asgard,” Eleanor spits, “that fucking bitch!” Eleanor's eyes roll back into her head as she collapses onto the deck, the last of her breath leaving her lungs with a rough gasp.
*****
Doctor Hartman looks away from the data rapidly scrolling up his holoscreen. He is hovering above the dead body of a human crewmember, her lifeless body having been crushed against the bulkhead during transit through the quantum gate. The doctor’s biomechanical eye scans the medical bay, which is rapidly filling with smoke, to see all five nurses and lab technicians, biosynth and human, have met similar fates.
“Doctor Hartman?” Warrior’s sad and shaken voice utters over the speakers in the room.
“I’m here,” he replies.
“They’re all dead!” Warrior declares with sadness. “I can’t detect a single life inside my body, other than yours!”
“Warrior, I’m so sorry,” the doctor replies. He looks down at a female crewmate lying nearest to him. Quickly he recalls meeting her for the first time. He recalls the life that was in her eyes. Now her broken bleeding corpse and lifeless eyes staring at the bright ceiling will be forever etched into his biosynthetic brain.
“I don’t know what to do,” Warrior declares helplessly. “Who is in command?”
The doctor’s eyes narrow and appears to blink. “That would be me, pilot.” Hartman replies, mournfully.
“Please, sir, give me an order…before I go mad,” Warrior sobs.
“Open the biowarrior barracks, direct all functioning units to damage control,” Hartman says. “Connect with Blade and shadow his flight path until we figure out what to do next.”
“Understoo
d, sir,” Warrior replies, her voice quivering.
The door to the lab slides up into the ceiling with a bang. Red stumbles through the opening, his left arm hanging by a wire, fluids spilling from the open wound onto the deck. The left side of his head is severely caved in, his left eye sizzles in its socket. An ugly looking dent is pressed into his chest plate.
“Repair…” Red utters, his voice crackling. He quickly drops to his knees.
Doctor Hartman’s head swings back toward his holoterminal. Rapidly his four hands and twenty metal fingers dance across the holographic keys and dials.
Dropping out of the lab ceiling, two gravity tether emitters fire sizzling blue energy chains at Red. He is lifted and quickly whipped onto an examination table, which rises from the floor of the deck to meet him. A scanner flips out of the examination table and casts a green light. Quickly the scanner glides down the length of Red’s body.
Doctor Hartman hovers past the examination table and looks up at a large three-dimensional image of Red projecting into the center of the room. Highlighted damaged areas around the biowarrior’s body begin to blink. Hartman notices a green blinking caption near Red’s holographic head. Doctor Hartman hovers up and quickly presses the caption with a metallic fingertip. A new holoscreen appears with data rapidly scrolling upward. Hartman’s biosynth mind quickly digests the data, his eye suddenly widens with surprise.
*****
Blade lands his bulk onto the rocky surface of what had once been an ice planetoid and is now a piece of debris. A cloud of grey dust puffs up and floats away. He folds his wings back and walks along the hard cold surface, great claws crunching into the porous material. His great biosynth eyes stare out at a distant yellow sun.
Warrior, swoops in, and skids to a stop, sending dust and debris upward to float away. She looks back to see the horrendous debris field of the planetoid, pieces drifting about and occasionally colliding, pulverizing each other. Folding her great wings back she strolls toward the great dragon, Blade, who is three times her size.
“Warrior,” Blade greets blandly. His voice transmitted directly into Warrior’s mind.
