The Archeon Codex: Guardians of the Galactic Sentinel Book 2

by Phillip Nolte

  The agent stopped for a second to recover his balance and gather his wits, but he had totally forgotten about Won. Too late, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head just in time to see Won already pirouetted up off the floor and in the process of delivering a another devastating roundhouse kick. Before the man could respond, a sledgehammer piled into the center of his chest, just below the sternum. After the violent blow to his solar plexus, the man folded over forward and dropped into a heap, joining his companion on the floor.

  As soon as the fight began, Babkin demonstrated the quality of his courage by turning around to run for the dock. He never made it. He was about half way through his turn when Jakob, who had been waiting for him, whipped his right arm across his body and cuffed the little man so hard across the face he took two steps backwards and fell to one knee. With a look of pure satisfaction, Jakob brought his own knee up hard into the nose of the odious little weasel's face. The force of the blow was intense enough to knock the little man over backwards, his head slamming into the deck with a loud and satisfying thump. Within seconds, all three of the agents were lying unconscious or incapacitated on the deck of Odessa's the cargo bay.

  "Looks like we've got our uniforms," said Won.

  "I had no idea how much you had been holding back while we sparred, Won," said Sergei. "The way you handled that big goon was amazing! I appreciate your help, though I think I'd have had my man in just a few more seconds."

  "I didn't want to take a chance that the guy might get lucky," said Won.

  "Good point," replied Sergei, wisely not pressing the matter further.

  Chapter 36. Botany Lessons.

  Capri, Deep Space, Undesignated Star System, October 8, 2676.

  The three ships of the small Human/Hordean fleet were currently under sublight drive journeying between hyperlink zones in one of the transit star systems between Sol and the first contact system. With several hours to spare, Salix, Malus, Nuriyev, Cliff and Zack were gathered in Capri's big meeting room for a science and technology discussion.

  "What's the status of Helianthus, Salix," asked Zack. "Have you heard anything?"

  "Our ship is operating as well as can be expected, and we anticipate no problems."

  "That's good news," replied Zack. "I've been wondering about something. You told us you needed to deploy your 'stellar collection arrays' before you could make repairs. What did you mean by that?"

  "Malus informs me that you employ atomic fusion reactors to power your ships?"

  "That's right," said Cliff, "but we have to convert the energy output into electricity to get any use out of it."

  "Many of our systems also require electricity, just as yours do," said Malus, "though a number of them are powered by strictly chemical processes. Both require vast amounts of energy. You obtain yours from fusion power, we use the energy emitted by stars."

  "That's why you need a stellar collection array," said Zack.

  "Correct, Lieutenant."

  "So where is it?"

  "You have seen the lighter colored stripes that run the length of each spoke on our ship?"

  "Yes, I was wondering what they were for."

  "They are seams in the outer layers of the shells enclosing the spokes," Malus continued. "When we wish to collect energy, the coating splits open along those seams and unfolds outward to reveal the stellar collection surfaces underneath. The stellar energy is converted to a useable form through the chemical process you call 'photosynthesis,' though the system we have developed is vastly more efficient than that employed by plants you are familiar with. We collect this energy and store it in banks of organic batteries located in the central disc."

  "Those've got to be some pretty hefty batteries," said Cliff.

  "Indeed," replied Malus. "They make up about half the mass of the entire ship."

  "How long can you go on a full charge?" asked Cliff.

  "That depends, of course, on the energy demands, but generally we only need to recharge about once every thirty or so of your days."

  "How long does it take for your ship to get to a full charge?" asked Zack.

  "Again, it depends," said Malus. "The closer we are to the donor star, the less time required for recharge. There are limits, of course, on how closely we can safely approach a star. To answer your question, if the batteries are down to twenty-five percent power and we are within 100 million kilometers of a G type star, then about one of your days is required to reach a hundred percent charge."

  "Where are you at right now?"

  "The batteries are just over fifty percent charged. It is not a shortage of power that currently handicaps our ship, it is the physical damage to the reaction engine on the end of spoke eleven. The lack of that engine throws all the others out of balance. We are compensating, but only by enduring a significant loss in efficiency."

  "Can you fix it?" asked Cliff.

  "We can, but time, energy and repair materials will be required. One of the materials in the reaction coils is particularly difficult for us to obtain, and we currently have insufficient reserves to effect a complete repair."

  "What is it you need?" asked Zack.

  "Repairing the coil will require quantities of an atomic element you call 'tungsten.'"

  "How much do you need?" asked Zack.

  Malus appeared to make some mental calculations before replying, "Two hundred of your 'kilograms' would leave us with a small surplus."

  "We'll have to check with Holger Tvedt to see if he has some on hand or knows where to get it," said Zack. "He does a lot of business with asteroid miners."

  "Any amount you can supply would be most appreciated."

  There was a pause in the discussion as the group sensed that the topic had been adequately covered for the time being.

  "Do you have any questions for us?" asked Zack.

  "Cliff Barnard is teaching me about the engineering of this ship," said Malus. "I fear I do not have enough knowledge at this time to ask proper questions about it."

  "Do you have any questions about Human biology?" asked Nuriyev.

  "I believe we were more than adequately briefed during our orientation," said Salix. "There are also mammals on all of our planets, and we have studied them extensively. I would ask the same, do you have questions about Hordean biology?"

  "Actually, I do," replied Nuriyev.

  "By all means go ahead," said Salix.

  "Your life cycle seems to be relatively simple, each of you starts out as male and converts to female about half way through the cycle. Are there personality changes that go along with the conversion?"

  "There are," replied Salix. "You will have noted that I, as a female, am physically larger and less active than Malus, who is currently male."

  "I hesitate to ask this next question," said Nuriyev. "I do not wish to give offense."

  "We are not easily offended, please go ahead and ask."

  "What happens to you at the end of your cycle?"

  If Salix had taken any offense at the question she didn't show it. "This body will go into physical decline, and I will produce a Chlamydoscion which will be placed in a pedolith bed. After a development period lasting about two of your Human months, I will emerge as a male with all of my memories intact, and the cycle will repeat."

  "How many cycles have you been through?"

  "So many I have lost count. At least a hundred, possibly more."

  "Do your people always develop as clones?"

  "No, every five cycles the females produce flowers. These are fertilized by pollen from a selection of our males and will mature into seeds. The seeds are harvested, placed in pedolith, and sprouted. Seed production is the means by which we continue to improve our species, as only the most desirable of the offspring are allowed to develop into adults."

  "What happens to the ones who aren't selected?"

  "They are recycled."

  "I see," said Nuriyev. "Thank you." She thought for a moment. "Do you mind if I ask ano
ther question?"

  "Not at all."

  "I am confused about the sessiles that make up your ship. Where do they come from?"

  "Any of us can convert into sessile form during the female phase of our cycle just before flowering occurs. Unlike mobiles, most sessiles live for a very long time. At the end of their life or their usefulness, they produce a chlamydoscion which will convert them back to mobile form. Many elect to become sessiles again as soon as they are able. It is apparently a lifestyle they find gratifying."

  "Have you ever been a sessile?"

  "I have not, though I may wish to become one someday. I believe I would find it interesting."

  The conversation continued in much the same vein for another hour or so before Capri phased out of sublight and everyone got busy again.

  Chapter 37. A Short Stroll.

  New Belgrade Orbital Station, October 8, 2676.

  After several of Jakob's crew members came out and helped strip the three thugs of their uniforms, Sergei asked, "What do you want to do with them?"

  "I don't think we have any choice but take them with us," replied Luken. "We can question them, find out what they know."

  "And then what?"

  "I've got no love for these bastards. I've seen them beat innocent crewmen senseless, even kill them, at the slightest provocation. If you ask me, they seem to enjoy their jobs a little too much. After we question them, we'll invite them to take a little spacewalk."

  "Without suits?" said Sergei.

  "That was the plan."

  "In war, I guess there will be casualties," said Sergei. "These three would seem to be more deserving of that status than most."

  "Thought you'd understand," said Luken.

  The crewmen had draped the purloined uniforms over one of the shipping crates and dragged the two unconscious men and the incapacitated one over to a small hold that locked from the outside.

  "It's almost like this was destiny," said Sergei. "Two of our friends are big, burly types, and the other one is a little guy. They won't be a perfect fit, but these uniforms should do nicely. Let's pack them up and get back to the brothel."

  Sergei slipped back into the hideout at the Pink Lady where he delivered a parcel containing the "donated" uniforms. As expected, the fit wasn't perfect though it was easily good enough. Bobrik was very close to the same size as Babkin, and Spaski fit pretty well into the largest uniform. The remaining uniform hung a bit loosely on Eva, but it would do. With everyone, hopefully, adequately disguised, Sergei left the brothel by the front door while the others, very much in character for Political Corps types, went out the back.

  The walk to Odessa took about ten minutes. All three of the conspirators were understandably fearful at first, but after several encounters with regular security people, who averted their eyes when they saw the politico uniforms, they began to gain confidence. After a few more interactions, all of which went similarly, they walked openly down the street towards the docks, more or less without incident.

  There was a moment of anxiety as they arrived at the entry to the docks, but the worries proved to be unfounded. The three mock Political agents were waved through by the military guards with no questions asked. Breathing somewhat more easily, Sergei and the three fugitives made their way to Odessa before boarding the ship through the rear cargo bay. Once onboard the ship, having left their regular uniforms to be disposed of by the owner of the Pink Lady, they swapped the stolen outfits for conventional shipboard clothing.

  The departure of Odessa went without a hitch, though it was not completely free of tension. There were a few queasy moments while Jakob interacted with space traffic control; but, after a few minutes, he was granted permission to depart. He did so without delay. Two hours later, just before the ship phased into sublight, a message came from the New Belgrade Station announcing that no more ships would be allowed to leave until a "security crisis" had been resolved. Sergei wondered how long it would be until the leadership realized three of their enforcers were missing.

  Odessa phased into the relative safety of sublight space. On the bridge of the ship, Sergei, who had spent the entire journey out looking over Jakob's shoulder, breathed a sigh of relief. "It's too dangerous for you to remain in the Soviet sphere, at least for the time being, Jakob. Would you be interested in coming back to the Sol system with us?"

  "Sol system?" said Luken. "Not my first choice, but under the circumstances, it might be the wisest thing to do right now."

  "In that case, I guess we won't need to contact Symantia for a ride back," said Sergei.

  "We should tell her what our plans are, though," said Won.

  Sergei used the omnicast module to inform Symantia about the latest developments.

  "Very good," she sent back, "I'll meet you back in the Sol system."

  Odessa jumped out of the New Belgrade system and set out on the sequence of hyperjumps necessary to bring her to the Sol system. Fortunately, Jakob had topped off his reaction fluid reservoirs back at the New Belgrade station.

  Upon questioning the three captured thugs, it was immediately obvious they knew nothing of any Custodians and had been, in their words, "Just following orders." As captain of Odessa, Jakob Luken had ultimate authority while the ship was underway and was legally allowed to dispense law and order as he saw fit. In this open and shut case, he acted as judge, jury and executioner. The convicted criminals may have perished somewhat painfully, but at least they did so quickly.

  Chapter 38. Back to Ol' Sol.

  Sol System, Undesignated Hyperlink Zone, October 13, 2676.

  {...Hyper transit discontinuity...}

  Capri, Lenin and the gargantuan Helianthus phased into the Sol system through the previously unmapped hyperlink zone Capri had used to exit the system. All three captains were in the process of putting some distance between their ships and the chaotic currents of the hyperlink zone before switching over to sublight drive.

  "Lenin? This is Capri," sent Gertrude. "What is your reaction fluid status?"

  "Marginal," replied Kozloff. "We're down to a little over three percent. Probably enough to match vectors with another ship or scrub off enough velocity to dock with an orbital platform, but not much more. You say you have a contact here who can supply us with more reaction fluid?"

  "I do," replied Gertrude. "It's my father. He's sending a tanker to meet us as soon as we come out of sublight."

  "Your father has a tanker?"

  "Actually, he has a whole fleet of them."

  "Just who is your father anyway?"

  "His name is Holger Tvedt; he's King of the Sol Vikings."

  "You're one of the Sol Vikings? Pardon my ignorance, but I thought that..." Kozloff stopped, realizing what he had been about to say was probably inappropriate.

  "...that we're all ruthless killers?" said Gertrude, finishing the thought for him.

  "I wasn't going to use those exact words."

  "Well, just so you know, we can be, especially if you do something to get on the wrong side of us."

  "I guarantee we'll all be on our best behavior."

  "Never fear, Captain. I think you'll find we're actually quite civilized."

  "We've just entered the sublight insertion zone," reported Ariane, effectively ending the conversation.

  The three ships phased into sublight within a few minutes of each other. Sublight transit didn't require the use of reaction fluid so Lenin would be able to retain her meager supply and still be able to perform limited maneuvers after returning to normal space.

  Six hours later, the three ships shifted sequentially out of sublight. Immediately upon their return to normal space, Gertrude and the Soviets picked up several large contacts on their instruments. The Hordea sensed them as well, though their detection technology employed completely different principles.

  Holger Tvedt greeted them from the bridge of his ship, "Capri? This is Viking Warbird One. Welcome home."

  "Thank you, Father," replied Gertrude. "It's good to be back.<
br />
  "I see you brought some friends with you. Who are they?""

  "The ship that looks like a big snowflake is called Helianthus, and she's Hordean. The other ship is SPS Lenin. As you can see, she's a Soviet courier."

  "Another one of them? You sure they're peaceful?"

  "Yes, they're on our side."

  There was a short pause before Holger replied, "Fine. I brought a reaction fluid tanker, which one of you needs fuel?"

  "It's the Soviet courier."

  "Rendezvous in half hour, Capri. I'll expect a full briefing."

  "Roger that, One."

  The two groups of ships converged on the same area of space. The Viking contingent consisted of the tanker, Warbird One and Warbird Three. Apparently, Holger was not about to be caught in a situation where he was outgunned.

  The tanker carefully maneuvered to within twenty meters of Lenin. Within minutes, a couple of spacesuited figures emerged from the tanker's airlock. Two more came out of the Soviet craft and, working together, the four of them attached the tanker's refueling boom to the courier's external fuel port. At a signal from one of the Soviets that the connection had been established, the transfer began. Under these conditions, complete filling of Lenin's two reaction fluid reservoirs would take about forty-five minutes.

  While Lenin was refueling, Holger resumed questioning his daughter.

  "So, you say this Soviet courier is on our side? The last one sure as the fires of Helheim wasn't."

  "The last one was under the control of Custodians when it attacked us, and all but one of the Soviet crew was dead by then. Lenin was on the verge of suffering the same fate until we convinced her bridge crew to investigate their political officer. You remember that Soviet vermin I exterminated here on the Capri a month or so ago?"