“Roger, CAV. Keep me posted on this action.” Prisca sinks into her chair. “Boarding party, authorized departure. Proceed with caution. Seize the survivors of the Caloji and bring them aboard.”
“Understood, Commander.”
* * *
If everything went according to plan, obfuscated by the alleged overload of an antimatter node, the detectors of the São Paulo shouldn’t have recorded the tiny emissions of the jets in their suit.
Long Teeth synchronized his advance toward the fortress so as to emerge from the shadow of the Caloji VIII at the moment of the blinding blast. It took him several minutes to reach the emergency hatch in the São Paulo section where he had landed. He thought most likely he had gone unnoticed. Made of smart material capable of absorbing incidental radiation, the suit must appear invisible to the fortress’s sensors.
A short-life wouldn’t have been able to force entry through the security seals of the watertight chamber, but he’d broken into it without much difficulty.
He tries to seal the internal hatch of the invaded chamber when the shrill alarm announces throughout the fortress the lack pressurization of the deck. Annoyed, he steps away from the chamber.
Have they found me yet?
He hopes against hope that he won’t show in the internal surveillance circuit.
As he passes in front of the open hatch of a photonic laboratory, he stops and throws a stun grenade inside. He closes the hatch and destroys the opening control. He expects the amusement is enough to divert the enemy’s attention.
* * *
“Micro-robotics to…Command…” The voice stops in a coughing fit. “…under attack…”
“Repeat, MR.” Prisca turns in the chair to face her subordinates, as stunned as she is. A Palmares double agent? Someone coming from outside? No. The commandant shakes her head with a wry smile on her lips. That kind of thing only happens on cheap spy holothrillers… “Command on the line. Micro-robotics, repeat your last statement.”
Another coughing fit tells the commander that something wrong happened in the micro-robotics lab.
“Security, send an armed squad to deck four.” Prisca stares at the communications officer. “Internal circuit in laboratory seven.”
“Affirmative.” The lieutenant activates three commands on the virtual keyboard. “On the holotank.”
The four technicians fallen on the floor of laboratory seven are not an enlightening picture.
* * *
“Commander Didonet, this is Lieutenant Spider.”
“Go on, Spider.” Prisca turns in the armchair to face the side holocube. She tries to stifle the expression of ill will. What the hell does this prick want now?
“Ma’am, I am convinced that the São Paulo is suffering enemy infiltration.”
“There’s a squad on the way to investigate the incident.”
“If my suspicions are correct, the security of the fortress is not fit to deal with the problem.”
“Oh no?” Prisca is already fed up with this conceited operative. First, he dropped that ultra-secret scientific payload in São Paulo. He then returned from Earth with orders to make a reservation of the most modern biological analysis laboratory in the habitat in order to “prepare ground” for a special SBI team which, he says, is about to board the ship. Go figure… “It would help a lot if you spoke in plain Portuguese, Lieutenant.”
“All I can disclose now is that said infiltration is probably related to the cargo I brought onboard.”
Great! The commander shakes her head in irritation.
“The mysterious cargo you smuggled here without my permission.” Prisca gave a hostile glance at the agent’s thumbnail in the holocube. “The one who you insist on protecting in person and that…”
“Commander, please.” The little man in the cube gestures impatiently. “I’m just following orders. It’s a matter of national security.”
“It’s what you intelligence types always say, for everything and nothing.” The commander looks away from the hub to follow the squad’s advance in the holotank. “Very well, Lieutenant. So what is it you want?”
“Authorization to deal personally with this focus of infiltration.”
“Commander, report of the boarding party.” With the fingers of his right hand pressing the headset, the communications officer turns in the chair to face the superior officer. “They did not find anyone on the Caloji.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Prisca thinks she sees a dark figure moving very fast, next to the three members of the security squad, in the long corridor that goes to the hub of the laboratories. The holo blurs when the camera turns to try to keep up with the movement. Someone mutters a muffled expletive via audio. Then they hear screams and a kind of hoarse meowing. Then the holotank blanks out.
“Security, what happened?” Prisca swallows. Either I’m wrong, or that blurred shape hit the astronaut who carried the microcamera… “Safety, report situation.”
After five seconds of ominous silence, without the military in service in the C.O.C. listening to the squad sent to the MR, the SBI operative returns:
“Commander, I’m afraid the enemy has intercepted the security squad.”
“Spider, get off this fucking line!”
“Ma’am, I request permission to engage with the enemy.”
“What?”
“Believe me, I am fully able to deal with this problem.”
“How? Alone?”
“Affirmative. I have training and special devices. Besides that…”
“Commander, look at that!” The service ensign on the internal communications console points to the holotank. Apparently he managed to trigger a surveillance camera down the hall.
At first, Prisca doesn’t understand what she is seeing. Red smudges dot the floor, the bulkheads, and even the hallway ceiling. This can’t be blood! Then she comes across the corpse whose heart was ripped through his breastplate …
“Increase resolution,” she orders the lieutenant in a firm voice, despite the nausea rising in her throat. “Turn the camera around until we find our boys.”
“Or what’s left of them…” Someone lets out a hysterical laugh, which then turns into a series of uncontrollable sobs.
Another fallen body appears in the holotank. An astronaut with his skull crumpled, stretched out on the floor over a pool of blood. Three yards ahead, Prisca stares at what appears to be a torn arm, still in combat uniform, creepily poised on the top of an access panel.
“Who the hell—” she stutters, unable to link together her reasoning.
At that moment, the C.O.C. hatch slits open to let Jonas Spider enter. The astonished operative watches the dantesque scene in the holotank, as if mesmerized.
“It’s not possible,” he murmurs, finally. “Enigma is dead. I did it myself…”
“Who is this Enigma?” Prisca closes her jaws, fighting the urge to vomit. “Do you happen to know who did it?” She points to the terrifying scene in the holotank.
“I thought there was only one…” Jonas stares at the commander with a frightened expression. “I could swear I had rid our country of this torment…”
“Lieutenant Spider, I’m just going to ask you one more time.” Prisca leaps to her feet, standing taller over the operative. She glares at the officer and drums with her index finger on the officer’s chest. Strange, it looks like an armored suit… “Who killed my astronauts in that hallway?”
“Enigma…”
“Who or what is this Enigma?”
“An agent from Palmares. The worst enemy Brazil has ever faced.”
“Did you already know him?”
“I already defeated him at Galileo Base on Europa. I mean, that was another Enigma…”
“How many of these monsters are there?”
“Until now we thought there was only one.”
“Can you face it?”
Jonas swallows before answering:
“It’s my duty. He came after the head of the other Enigma.”
Great. The secret cargo is a fucking human head. Shaken, Prisca takes a step back and collapses into her ergonomic armchair. “What can we do to help?”
“Evacuate all corridors and accesses. Order the crew to remain locked in the compartments they’re in until second order.”
Prisca rests in a sullen silence. It makes sense. When fewer people circulate, the less chance of new massacres.
8 Cobalt Blue vs. Enigma II
Jonas advances through the labyrinth of corridors of the São Paulo laboratory hub with all sensors activated. It is no longer a matter of announcing his presence in a loud and clear tone, but of not being surprised by the enemy.
With a garrison of 382 military astronauts and scientists, the fortress is immense. Spinning on its own axis, it produces acceleration of a standard gravity in most living modules, arranged in a concentric ring around the power modules and supplies. The largest Brazilian orbital habitat. A self-sufficient world in Earth’s orbit, stationary on the geometric center of South America, watching and protecting the homeland from all evil from the surface or from space, ready to retaliate definitively if the worst happened.
The point is that Enigma could be anywhere in this gigantic complex.
The motion sensors don’t indicate anything abnormal. The corridors seem empty and the compartments next to the itinerary that he decided to take also show no signs of anomalous activity.
He never imagined there could be another Enigma. By its unique characteristics, all past and present analysts have always believed that it was a single supposedly supernatural operative. We’ve always been wrong. How many of these heinous monsters does Palmares still have to throw at us?
In principle, the current Enigma probably ignores his existence. However, also in principle, the mysterious entity should also ignore the location of the head of his colleague, and yet came straight here, infiltrated the fortress easily and already caused seven casualties, three of them fatal.
I need to stop this freak. Jonas reaches a junction of eight corridors. The VIB sweeps all directions with the sensors at maximum, looking for movement. Again!
* * *
Long Teeth walks through the tangle of the São Paulo corridors. Apparently they have already discovered his presence. Everything as planned.
There are no more crewmen circling between compartments and corridors of the fort. Well trained, they disappeared less than thirty seconds after the klaxon announced “hold current posts.”
The corridors are plunged into shadows, lit only from time to time by feeble lights that flash in a blood-red comforting to his sensitive eyes.
Despite the capture of Sharp Claws, the Brazilian intelligence still doesn’t seem to have discovered much, judging by the light intensity reigning here. For if they had studied the boy’s eyeballs, they would have concluded that the night-children are nocturnal creatures, and that as such they may be dazzled by faerie light.
He hears the worried pulsations of sheltered short-lives in the nearby compartments. The frightened scent of their pheromones in the corridors makes it clear they already knew the lesson of the security squad.
The commander of the fortress certainly plans to capture him in some way or another. Apparently, she forfeited the direct confrontation. At least, for now. Probably she’ll want to gas him out or even expose him to a vacuum in a sealed compartment. If they only knew how long I can survive without breathing…
He concentrates on the noises of the more distant corridors. It may not mean anything, but he thinks he’s heard things four hundred yards ahead. Unfortunately, this rubber-coated floor stifles sound propagation. Even so, he notes that it is a single person.
Why does a solitary astronaut wander aimlessly about in a habitat under lockdown? Probably to be killed.
The pace doesn’t indicate caution or fear, but determination.
Cobalt Blue? Long Teeth accelerates the pace towards the solitary short-life. I can only hope.
* * *
Jonas hears the high beep of the true motion sensor. Then the VIB opens the schematic holo of that section of the fortress. A presence suspected a deck below, two hundred and thirty yards ahead. Take the next access ramp to get off. Right now, he prefers relying on elevators.
“Access to surveillance cameras on deck three,” orders the VIB.
Another transparent holo opens next to the first. The agent looks down the long corridor. The tenuous, scattered lighting creates a host of shadows. Enigma could be hidden in any of them.
“Infrared sensors?”
“The corridor only has fire sensors.”
Jonas closes his jaws. He will have to reach the hall to use the suit’s IV.
* * *
Footsteps approach. Cobalt Blue or not, whoever is approaching is on this deck, seventy-five feet from his current position.
He commands the retraction of the helmet and bares his fangs in a rictus of pleasure. Exposes the retractable claws of his hands and creeps into a denser shadow within the gloom.
* * *
The MV sensor has cleared the holo. Enigma noticed his approach and hid himself.
VIB activates infrared vision without having to sort. One can imagine that the enemy has a costume clever enough to suit his thermal signature at room temperature, but you never know.
The sonar exhibits a random anomaly that dissipates in less than a second.
“Analysis.”
“Enemy generating destructive eco-interference. See now.”
The echo of a figure appears again, now leaning against the side bulkhead of the corridor, less than twenty yards away. So close! Then it disappears again, when the enemy generator emulates the new frequency pattern.
“Request normal lighting.”
Three seconds later, the hallway lights up. At that moment, the dark figure appears in front of him.
* * *
He moves faster than I do. Jonas stares at the ugly fellow in a black-fitting suit, apparently capable of absorbing incident light. Even with VIB, he moves faster. It should have faster reflexes as well.
“Cobalt Blue, I presume.” The opponent grins fiercely, displaying protruding canines the size of an adult man’s thumbs.
The Brazilian looks at the entity with huge eyes. The yellow irises fills almost the entire space between the eyelids. The pupils are nothing more than slits, like those of a feline on a clear day.
“So this is my code name in Palmares?” He never imagined he would talk to this nonhuman creature one day.
“The analysts of our intelligence communities don’t excel at creativity in the christening of operatives and agents. They thought it simpler to take the name of their project.”
Jonas shakes his head, grinning reluctantly.
“You have something that belongs to us.”
“I can’t imagine what that might be.”
“Then I will clarify this pretended ignorance. The head of the other Enigma. Deliver it to me willingly and I promise to leave without causing more casualties in the São Paulo.”
“I’m sorry. Whatever you came looking for here, it’s not with us.”
“In that case, you will not mind me rummaging through the fortress, will you?”
“Unfortunately, I can’t allow you to do that.” Jonas swallows hard. “To be honest, my primary mission is to fight and destroy you.”
“What are we waiting for, then?”
Imbued with a peculiar sense of humor, of its own accord, the VIB abandons the matte gray camouflage and assumes the cobalt blue color, dotted with glowing golden stars, without its bearer even giving the order.
* * *
Jonas leaps back, raises his arms and shoots laser pulses with both hands. Anticipating such an attack, the opponent dodges to the side. The wrists open holes in the bulkhead at the curve of the corridor, from where sparks begin to emerge.
Long Teeth advances and counterattacks with a right-hand swipe. The sharp claws reach the opponent’s flank at the level of the rib
s, without being able to pierce the armor of the suit.
“Superficial microperforations in the outer shield. Repairs in progress. Occurrence alarms disabled.”
From the confrontation with the previous Enigma, it was more or less established that the opponent’s terrible claws can’t produce significant damage to the VIB. With a relieved sigh, Jonas fires a continuous laser jet at point-blank range. Although struck in the chest and thrown back, the Palmarine agent doesn’t seem mortally wounded.
This Enigma has defenses. In his own way, his suit is also an armor…
The son-of-the-night rises from a leap, deflecting at the last moment the new laser bursts that the adversary fires at maximum power with the palms of his hands.
“Batteries charge at less than 72%,” VIB alerts Spider.
This strategy is not working. He’s too fast and I’m wasting energy too fast…
With another jump Long Teeth hits the operative’s torso with both feet, knocking him down. He rises and strikes the Brazilian’s helmet with both hands. Although the piercing claws don’t penetrate the enemy’s skull, he feels dizzy with the intensity of the impacts.
The son-of-the-night rises to his feet and raises his opponent still dizzy by the neck. He growls in an angry tone:
“Did you think it would be as easy as it was on Europa?”
Am I imagining things, or is this one stronger and faster than the other?
Jonas recovers with the massive dose of noradrenaline that VIB releases into his bloodstream. He raises his arms and throws twin punches against his opponent’s uncovered face.
Surprised by the adversary he thought defeated, Long Teeth falls to his knees. The Brazilian’s kick hits him hard in the chest, hurling him against the hatch of the laboratory, giving in to the impact.
Jonas crosses the broken hatch portal to capture the opponent, but it rolls back from a set of benches, disappearing from view.
“Charge: less than 65%.”
He is winning the mortal duel, but he must finish it soon, while he has the energy to overthrow this Enigma.
He runs to one end of the compartment and begin to cross it, scouring the spaces between benches, consoles, and panels with the active sensors buzzing at full power.
Solarpunk: Ecological and Fantastical Stories in a Sustainable World Page 25
