Flagship (A Captain's Crucible #1)

by Isaac Hooke

  It was working.

  He was slipping past.

  And then he was through, past the darkness, hovering beside the light.

  Something was wrong.

  He was being pulled toward the light.

  He struggled to increase his mental barriers, but it was no use.

  The light had become a vast, whirling vortex. A maelstrom of stars from which there was no escape.

  As he was sucked inside, he tried to shout. Tried to call for help.

  But he had no voice.

  The light consumed him.

  * * *

  Jonathan stared at the telepath. Barrick sat cross-legged and unresponsive outside the larger container the scientists had transferred the alien into.

  Earlier, the chief scientist had told him Barrick had failed to rouse from his scheduled "deep dive" session. When he finally did open his eyes an hour later, she found Barrick in his current state and alerted the captain. Jonathan had promptly come down to cargo bay seven.

  He snapped his fingers in front of the man's face. Barrick didn't blink.

  "Have you tried shining light into his eyes?" Jonathan asked.

  "His pupils dilate," Connie said.

  "So he's not a vegetable."

  "We can move him out of here now?" Connie asked hopefully. "To sick bay?"

  "I want him here," Jonathan said. "He might be in contact with the alien at this very moment. I don't want to sever that connection by moving him somewhere."

  "Fine."

  Jonathan regarded the new container Connie's team had placed the alien inside. It was subdivided into two sections by a glass partition. One compartment contained a firing frame that various weapons could be mounted to. It currently held an M1170 laser pulse gun. The other section contained the dark mass of the alien. A shutter in the partition moved aside at nano speeds to allow the weapon to fire; the shutter was needed, even for the laser, because the inside of the container was coated with a special substance that absorbed laser fire—a necessary precaution to prevent the alien from shooting its own weapon at them.

  "Any update on my previous order?" Jonathan asked her.

  "Your 'tell me how to kill these things' order?"

  "That's the one."

  "I've set up a high speed camera with a shutter speed of two thousand frames per second and taken footage of the alien. That darkness around it seems to flicker off occasionally—for a few nanoseconds—revealing a more compact darkness underneath. I haven't found the pattern yet, but we've been experimenting with the laser pulse gun, shooting at an inconspicuous portion of the amorphous body and varying the frequency of the pulses. With luck, we'll find the perfect modulation to allow the beams to pass through."

  Jonathan noticed the grid-like plates that had been setup on the far side of the glass compartment containing the alien—those were probably there to record if any of the photons from the weapon passed through.

  "Frequency modulation," he said doubtfully. "It sounds like your experiment is based more on conjecture than solid science."

  She shrugged. "As most experiments are."

  "Well, keep me updated on your progress. And notify me if there's any change in Barrick."

  A few hours later Connie contacted him on the bridge: "Your telepath started moving his hands about ten minutes ago. We realized he was using a drawing program on his aReal. I had one of our cyber specialists tap in, and we downloaded the picture. Would you like to see it?"

  "Send it my way," Jonathan told her.

  A few moments later a rough three-dimensional picture hovered in front of him, depicting a naked human with several wires connected to his body. Jonathan interpreted it to mean Barrick was in contact with the alien.

  "All right," Jonathan told Connie. "I want you to have an artist draw a picture of a human hand extended in friendship toward a dark mass. Print it out and put it in front of Barrick. Give him a charcoal so that he can add to the picture."

  About an hour later Connie relayed what happened. "When we gave him the picture, the telepath grabbed the charcoal and began drawing over it. Would you like to see the edits?"

  "Please, Lieutenant."

  When she sent the updated drawing, Jonathan felt disturbed by what he saw. The telepath had extended the darkness to cover the human hand entirely, and on the rest of the arm gashes had been drawn into the skin. Dark drops representing blood dripped from the wounds.

  "We can't be sure the actual alien is communicating with us," Connie sent over the comm. "What we're looking at could be a figment of the telepath's own damaged mind. The aftereffects of the contact attempt on his psyche."

  "Has he said a word, yet?"

  "Negative."

  "Keep me updated on his condition," Jonathan said. "Captain out."

  twenty-six

  Wolf opened his eyes. His gaze met complete, utter darkness.

  He was completely naked, his body buoyed up by the cold water he resided within. When he reached out with his arms, he felt the cool metal bulkheads of some sort of tank. He attempted to swivel his body around, but the container was tight, affording him little room to maneuver. He explored in the dark as he could, searching for breaks in the smooth metallic surface, but he found none.

  He remained motionless, thinking. Thoughts were all he had there in that tank of sensory deprivation.

  He sensed subtle G-forces for the next hour or so. And then the forces exerted on his suspended body abruptly increased, and his feet slammed into the metallic base of the pod that held him. Waves of water reflected from the bulkheads and washed over his face.

  He heard the hiss of escaping air as a rectangular outline of dim light appeared in the overhead above him. That section of the tank slid aside. He blinked several times: though the illumination was dim, it still took a moment for his eyes to adjust. When they did so, he found himself staring at a metallic grating located roughly two meters above him. A ceiling of some kind.

  The pod had opened.

  He forced himself to stand. His muscles felt weak, as if atrophied from several days of disuse.

  He stood in a tight, cylindrical chamber. The dim light was sourced from the bulkheads—glowing blue filaments ran along their lengths. The metal egg that had birthed him lay in the middle of the compartment, taking up much of the space. As he watched, the topmost panel of the tank resealed.

  The subtle groan and creak of moving metal came from the far side of the compartment. He turned toward it. The bulkhead there gradually slid aside.

  He was struck by a sudden stench that reminded him of farm animals.

  A group of shadows stood in the dimly lit chamber beyond.

  "It's not the food," one of the shadows said.

  * * *

  Wolf was ushered to the front of the group. Human beings. They were all naked. Like cattle, or animals in a zoo.

  "Jason," someone said.

  He would've recognized that voice anywhere. "Lin?"

  She hugged him. Her naked body felt warm against his skin, though any arousal he might have felt was offset by her stench.

  "Come with me," she said.

  She led him across the dimly lit chamber. It was expansive, though the overdeck was only a few inches from his head. The bulkheads around them were windowless steel, with no obvious cameras.

  More naked men and women sat in large groups on the featureless deck. Some of them huddled for warmth. The stench of FAN—feet, ass, nuts—was overwhelming in those areas, and he pinched his nose.

  "Feel like I'm in bootcamp all over again," Wolf said. "Though at least back then, some of us tried to shower."

  "You'll get used to it," Lin said. "And yeah, there are no showers."

  "So where the hell are we?" he asked her.

  "The alien ship, probably," Lin said. "We're prisoners. These are the crew members of the Selene."

  She took a wide detour past an area that served as a common latrine, judging from the smell and the lack of any permanent human presence. She took h
im to the far side of the compartment and halted beside a small group of people.

  "Is it him?" a woman asked.

  "Yes," Lin told her.

  "Sit, sit," the woman said. She appeared young, maybe mid-twenties. Though of course with rejuvenation treatments you could never really tell someone's age these days. She didn't seem to smell as bad as the others. Maybe it was wishful thinking.

  Wolf seated himself beside her. "Who are you?"

  "I'm Captain Chopra of the Selene."

  "Tell me you have an escape plan," Wolf said, trying very hard not to look at her naked breasts in the dim light.

  Chopra smiled sadly. "Direct and to the point." She glanced at Lin. "I like him." She returned her attention to Wolf. "There is no escape from this place, Lieutenant Commander. We've searched the bulkheads, there are no weak points. The airlock is the only way in and out. Normally, our captors use it to deposit the organic sludge that serves as our food. Though occasionally, human beings such as Lin and yourself arrive."

  "Have you tried camping out in the airlock after the food arrives?" Wolf asked.

  "Some of us have," Chopra said. "When it opens again for the next delivery, those who camped out are gone and never return."

  He heard a soft, robotic wail.

  "What's that?"

  "The warning tone. It tells us the airlock is about to seal."

  He glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, the metal there had begun to creak and groan as the door slid sideways.

  "How many survivors are there?" Wolf asked.

  "Twenty-eight. We've lost sixteen to the escape attempts. And another ten were simply taken."

  "Taken?"

  "Yes. Sometimes when the airlock opens, an invisible, scentless incapacitating agent spreads throughout the compartment. Knocks us out cold. When we awaken, two of us are gone. Usually a man and a woman."

  "A man and a woman." Wolf glanced at Lin, and asked Chopra. "When is the next food delivery scheduled?"

  "We've lost track of time," Chopra said. "We don't have aReals. Implants don't work. The food will come when it comes. Why, are you hungry?"

  "Yes. But that's not the reason I ask. I have no intention of sitting around waiting to die. I'm going to be the next one who attempts an escape."

  * * *

  The food had arrived in a pod similar to the one that had brought him here.

  Wolf and Lin stood inside the airlock. The pair watched the designated gatherers pile the sludge into their arms for their groups.

  "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked her.

  Lin wrapped her hand around his. "You go, I go."

  After the last of the gatherers had taken their share, Chopra stepped forward and extended a hand. "Good luck."

  Wolf shook her palm. He no longer had any trouble ignoring her breasts; it was surprising how easy a man could desensitize himself to female nudity.

  Chopra shook Lin's hand next and then turned to go.

  "We'll come back for you," Wolf said.

  Chopra glanced over her shoulder. "Of course you will." She smiled sadly, like she didn't believe it.

  Wolf and Lin lowered themselves into the pod one after the other. Lin slipped on the thin layer of sludge that remained on the bottom, and her body pressed violently into his.

  They were facing one another, naked. She shifted, trying to get into a more comfortable position, but the tight confines didn't allow for much legroom. She was forced to remain on top of him.

  Wolf felt the blood rushing to his genitals.

  After a moment, she lifted her head to look into his eyes.

  "You're aroused?" she said, sounding incredulous.

  "It's like I'm reliving all the sexual fantasies of my childhood," Wolf commented.

  "Your sexual fantasy was to be trapped aboard an alien ship, locked inside a pod coated with disgusting sludge, and pressed up against a stinking, malnourished woman?" Her voice sounded slightly husky.

  "Something like that. Minus the disgusting sludge, and the stinking part."

  The warning tone came. The airlock door began to close. The pod sealed, too, enveloping the pair in darkness. A slight hiss came as the final rectangle of light that outlined the opening vanished. It had to be an airtight seal.

  Lin's breathing increased.

  "I'm scared," she said. Definitely husky.

  Ignoring the magnified stench of her body, he mashed his lips against hers and made love to her there in the darkness.

  The pod shifted, but he ignored it. The two of them continued to rut.

  After he climaxed, she lay on top of him in the tight confines, breathing in and out gently into his ear.

  "We're probably going to run out of oxygen and die, you know," Lin said.

  "Can't think of a better way to go," Wolf commented.

  Several more minutes passed. The container continued to shift now and then: the pair were obviously being conveyed somewhere.

  "You think they know we're hiding in here?" Lin said.

  "Oh they know," Wolf told her.

  "Good," Lin said. "Because I'd hate to have the pod open into some unbreathable environment."

  "They have other plans for us than immediate death, I'm sure," Wolf said.

  After some time the pod shook and a soft thud indicated the container had been lowered to the floor.

  He heard a distant clang, followed by another one. It sounded like the twin peals of a closing airlock. Either whoever had brought them there had gone, or someone new had arrived.

  A hiss accompanied the crack of light that appeared as the pod opened.

  "Well, it's pressurized anyway," Wolf said. "And breathable, at least by human standards."

  The two of them waited a moment, letting their eyes adjust, then Lin pushed herself up. She lifted her torso past the opening.

  "What do you see?" Wolf asked.

  "I—"

  A large metallic pincer wrapped around her torso and she was unceremoniously hauled from the container.

  Wolf curled his knees into his chest, and carefully peered over the rim of the opening.

  Another giant pincer grabbed at him.

  He ducked and shifted his weight sideways, overturning the pod. He rolled out and stood up.

  Composed of black metal, two large robotic arms dangled from the ceiling. One of them carried Lin. The other was headed straight for Wolf.

  He dodged to the side and leaped over a nearby table. A human being was strapped to it. Wolf's hands caught on one of the man's organs—his chest had been opened up to expose his insides.

  The robot pincer came in again.

  Wolf ducked under the table. He heard a soft smushing sound as the pincer slammed into the dissected body above.

  Wolf specifically noted that Lin wasn't screaming up there. Either she was dead or she was exhibiting the discipline drilled into her during training:

  Suffer in silence. You scream, you draw the enemy.

  He surveyed his surroundings in the dim light, taking advantage of the heightened awareness the danger imbued his senses.

  He was inside a pressurized lab of sorts. The bulkheads were lit by the same glowing blue filaments as the prison. There were more humans present on some of the adjacent tables. Most of their bodies were dissected, like the man above. Many were still alive, judging from their breathing—feeding tubes had been shoved down throats, excretion tubes forced into urethras and anal passages. Smaller robots similar to surgical weavers operated on a few of them.

  On the far end he noticed a pile where human spacesuits, clothing, and other belongings had been placed. Some of the items were laid out on a table for analysis. One of the smaller robots was examining a spacesuit helmet at that moment.

  He spotted a plasma rifle almost buried near the bottom. Careless, overconfident aliens, packing the gear alongside the very humans they experimented on. While it was convenient, perhaps, it wasn't the best idea on their part.

  He observed all of that in the span of three heart
beats. The robot arm was already reaching under the table.

  Wolf rolled out from his cover, dodged between the tables, and dove toward the plasma rifle. He wrenched it from underneath the pile, turned the weapon toward the giant arm, flicked the safety off, and squeezed off two shots as the black metal weaved in.

  Molten slag sprayed the compartment on the other side of the impact site. In place of the robot arm a confused stump hung from the overhead and twisted to and fro.

  He turned toward the remaining arm that held Lin. She appeared to be alive—she was struggling as the pincers held her down on one of the operating tables while a smaller robot welded a metal strap to her wrist. He fired another salvo, aiming for the joint that connected the arm to the overhead.

  The large robotic limb broke away from the joint and fell to the deck, ripping the pincer portion from Lin.

  Wolf went to her. He kicked the smaller robot off her and shot it, dissolving its torso.

  "You okay?" he said.

  Still speechless, she tore away the half-welded metal strap that held her wrist to the table.

  Then she got up and promptly hugged him.

  "Thank you," she said.

  None of the other small robots bothered to pay them any heed; the things continued to go about their tasks as if oblivious to their presence. Wolf proceeded to shoot all the ones that were operating on humans.

  When he was done, he rejoined Lin.

  "Why are there no other guards?" she said.

  "I don't know," Wolf told her. "But I'm finding it hard to believe the aliens are that confident. On a human ship, we'd have at least a score of armed men assigned to guard any alien captives."

  "Maybe they want us to escape," Lin said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "It's possible there's some sympathetic faction aboard."

  "Yeah well," Wolf said. "I don't think we really have time to speculate. While there are no guards right now, I doubt the situation is going to remain that way. Let's get suited up."

  He and Lin rushed to the pile of spacesuits and began shrugging on the cooling and ventilation undergarments, followed by the main assemblies.