Eternal Frontier (The Eternal Frontier Book 1)

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  Coren adjusted his wrist-mounted weapons. A small pilot light sparked from one. “I can melt a way through.”

  “You got a goddamned flamethrower on that thing?” Tag asked, unable to hide his surprise. Guilt trickled through him at his unabashed admission of admiration for the Mechanic tech.

  “Absolutely. Standard armament.”

  Tag pushed aside his boyish enthusiasm for the weapon. As much as he would like to see the flamethrower in action, logic proved too powerful a force to ignore. He knew a more effective way to cut through the ice and snow, and he’d already done it once with the Argo. “Sofia, I’m going to need that seat back.”

  “She’s all yours, Captain,” Sofia said, giving him a wink.

  Tag took the seat. He almost ignored the slight ribbing. But Sofia was right, he actually was the captain of the Argo now. He was the highest-ranking—not to mention only—officer left on the ship’s manifest. It was his ship now, and he didn’t want to waste time melting snow with a small flamethrower before fulfilling his duty to its repair and, hopefully, impending flight. A quick switch on the air car’s dash let Tag engage the miniature fusion reactor overrides.

  “What are you doing?” Coren demanded. “You’re going to kill us.”

  “Tag, I know you don’t like Coren, but you don’t need to bring me into the middle of this,” Sofia exclaimed, alarmed.

  “Trust me,” Tag said.

  He let the small reactor overheat. A red emergency warning flashed across the car’s holoscreen, and alarms screeched.

  Coren pressed his thin hands over the ear holes in the sides of his head. “What are you doing? Turn off the manual override!”

  “Hold on,” Tag said, waiting as he watched the temperature readings spike. Then he punched another command. The reactors vented all the overcharged power to the miniature grav impellers the car used to float above the ground. The impellers were only a miniscule fraction as strong as the Argo’s, but they still provided the desired effect. The extra energy coursing through them released as thermal energy, a safety mechanism to prevent catastrophic overloading. As they heated, the snow underneath them melted like an ice cube in the desert, and the air car started to fall as the snow and ice gave way. Gravity took hold, pulling it down, and Tag felt his stomach flip. They plummeted for a second, then abruptly came to a stop.

  The car had pierced through a twenty-meter layer of snow and ice. Beneath them lay a sheet of silver gray. The Argo’s hull. Tag squinted, examining the smooth alloy, and tried to imagine what the rest of the ship looked like, guessing where the hatch to the cargo bay might lie.

  “Coren, maybe it’s time to use that.” Tag indicated the wrist-mounted weapon.

  “Delighted to do it,” Coren said. His expression certainly didn’t appear delighted, but he stood and locked his EVA suit’s helmet back into place.

  “Sofia?” Tag clicked his helmet back on, and Sofia took his spot in the driver’s seat.

  Once again, he closed the driver’s compartment and then unlatched the upper hatch of the car. He and Coren climbed out.

  “Ready?” Tag asked, his voice emanating through the suit’s external speakers.

  Coren nodded, and Tag pointed to a swath of snow slightly to the left of the car. A tongue of white-hot fire rolled out of Coren’s wrist-mounted gun like dragon’s breath. It made short work of the snow, clearing away a tunnel.

  “Good,” Tag said. He slid off the top of the car into the freshly cleared patch. Water dripped overhead, pattering against his suit and the Argo, and he pointed to another section of snow. More flames cut through it to reveal another shining segment of the Argo. More water streamed over him and the ship. He whispered a silent prayer to himself that the tunnel they were digging wouldn’t collapse in on itself and bury him with his ship.

  “There,” Tag said. More flames, more gleaming hull. The red, orange, and white glow of the flamethrower reflected off the Argo’s smooth curve. Light from the flames soaked into the snow around the tunnel Coren formed, casting the whole area in the shades of a brilliant sunset. Then the rounded edge of the Argo appeared. He faced the air car’s windshield. “Sofia, you ready?”

  “Ready and waiting,” her voice called back through the comms.

  “Bring her forward.” Tag motioned with his hands to guide the air car through the narrow space.

  Coren continued spurting flames to make room for the vehicle. Wind funneled through the tunnel and howled around them, and snow groaned, shifting overhead. More water splatted over the air car, and the side of it ground against one wall.

  “Careful!” Tag shouted.

  But it was already too late. Snow poured in behind the car, and the tunnel collapsed behind them. Darkness enveloped them, and Tag crouched, his hands over the back of his neck. Pangs of anxiety twisted in his gut.

  The sounds of shifting snow quieted. He was still alive. He breathed a shallow sigh of relief, and stood, his knees shaking. Bright lights washed over him. Sofia had flicked on the headlights of the air car.

  The tunnel in front of them hadn’t crumbled.

  Her voice came over the comms and echoed in Tag’s helmet. “Well, at least I covered our tracks. The Drone-Mechs are going to have a hard time finding us now.”

  Coren slowly stood, unraveling his lanky frame. The pilot light on his wrist-mounted guns sparked to life again. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  The pilot light burned menacingly, flickering over Coren’s face and giving the power-suited Mechanic a ghastly appearance.

  Tag’s heart pounded faster as he wondered what Coren had planned for them. With a shudder, he reached for his holster. “What do you mean?”

  “Twenty meters of snow isn’t enough to throw off a Mechanic ship’s radar or lidar. A hulking piece of alloy like this”—he stomped on the hull of the Argo for emphasis—“is going to shine brighter on the enemies’ holoscreens than any plant in the Forest of Light.”

  Tag’s hand inched back from his holster, and his heart settled, contemplating the Mechanic’s choice of words. Already referring to the unidentified ships as enemies without even bothering to contact them. Either he was dedicated to this ploy, or he really had lost hope in the fate of the rest of his species. “Then let’s get you inside. Cargo bay hatch should be right there.”

  Flames billowed from Coren’s wrist-mounted weapons and melted through the snow where Tag had indicated. Once the slush had given way, he leapt down, and his boots sank into soft snow and puddles of water, already refreezing. Sure enough, the hatch stood before him. He punched in a command on an external terminal. The doors hissed open. “We’re in!”

  He trod into the compromised cargo bay, still filled with snowdrifts from the punctures in the hull.

  Coren came in next, and his orange visor swiveled, panning across the darkened ship, taking in the ice-covered crates and pipes. “Looks like the cargo bay took some damage during your fight with the Drone-Mechs.”

  “It took all your Mechanic intellect to figure that one out?” Tag asked.

  Coren let out an audible grunt that echoed from his helmet’s speakers.

  “You know, we’ve really got to get your comms synced to ours,” Tag said. “I’d rather hear your disgust through my helm comms than echoing out into the hold.”

  Coren held up a hand in a dismissive gesture.

  “Sofia, you ready to bring that car down here?”

  “Copy,” her voice called backed. “Am I clear for landing?”

  “Clear,” Tag said.

  “Geronimo!” she called.

  The air car dropped. Its grav impellers caught the snow, but the fall was too great. The bottom of the car smashed against the snow and sent a wave of white clouds pluming around it. Its headlights lit up the hold, and once its impellers sent it hovering again, Sofia guided the car in. Tag closed the hatch after the air car shut off and settled on the deck. Sofia climbed out from the vehicle and joined the other two.
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br />   “Welcome to the Argo,” Tag said, when she joined him and Coren. “Don’t have time for a tour, so let’s get to the bridge.”

  “Agreed,” Coren said. “Reports indicate we’ve got only a couple of hours before the first contact reaches sensor proximity.”

  Tag led the trio up the ladders and into the passageways. Once inside, he punched a command on a nearby terminal. Lights buzzed on and illuminated the gleaming bulkhead and deck. He took his helmet off and sucked in a breath of clean, life-support-scrubbed air. Sofia removed her helmet, as did Coren.

  “It’s strange to breathe without smelling the flora and fauna of the jungle,” Sofia said as they jogged through the passage. “So sterile. Reminds me of home on the Dorado station.”

  Coren’s nostrils dilated. “I smell blood on the air. You weren’t exaggerating the death here.”

  “No, of course I wasn’t.” Tag didn’t smell anything. The scrubbers had seemed to take care of freshening the air enough for human standards, but he supposed the Mechanic might have a more refined sense of smell. It fit his snake-like countenance. They reached the hatch to the bridge and filed in.

  “Where’s your Ops station?” Coren asked, scanning the terminals and displays.

  “There.” Tag pointed to a chair in front of a holoscreen.

  Coren settled in.

  “Need me to log you into the systems?”

  Coren let out a huff that sounded like a pedantic chortle. “No, I’m already in. This should be a relatively short procedure. But before I begin, I want to keep watch on our friends in the sky.”

  A holoprojection glowed to life in the center of the bridge. It glimmered, coalescing into the massive globe of Eta-Five. Red dots indicated the positions of the Drone-Mech ships. Wider circles formed perimeters around each, demonstrating the estimated sensor reach of the ships.

  “Can you tell me how long this will take?” Tag asked.

  “Without AI help, it’ll be at least an hour and a half, maybe two hours.”

  “That’s cutting it close,” Sofia said. “And I’m guessing it’ll take even longer to reverse the AI virus the Drone-Mechs installed.”

  “That would be accurate,” Coren said. “It’ll take me much longer to unravel the mess they made. So trying to restore the AI systems in order to expedite the antilidar and -radar system adjustments would be counterproductive.”

  “Fair enough,” Tag said. “Get to work.”

  His eyes were fixed on the holoscreen tracking Coren’s work. Words, numbers, and commands flew through the display. Tag tried to follow along, but his rudimentary programming skills from working with synth-bio AIs weren’t enough. Coren seemed to have no problem wading through the human-created algorithms and software. All six fingers on each hand worked the terminal with determined speed. If this adjustment took Coren almost two hours, he hated to guess how long it would take him and Sofia to fudge through these changes, even if they knew what they were doing.

  Sofia didn’t seem quite as impressed as Tag was. She wandered around the bridge, examining different displays. Kneeling, she picked up a shred of cloth. It looked to be from a bridge officer’s uniform. She pinched it between her fingers, rolling it up.

  “Can’t believe they’re all gone,” she said. “It’s one thing to hear about this, but being here makes it seem so much more real.”

  Tag didn’t say anything, still too interested in supervising Coren’s work to engage in fruitless conversation. As the minutes passed, one of the Drone-Mech ships continued its search pattern. It was drawing dangerously close to the Argo. They had an hour now before they would be in sensor range. He hated relying on Coren to save the ship and them. There had to be something he could do, something to ensure they’d escape the probing lidar and radar of the Drone-Mechs.

  “You said an AI system could speed things up?” Tag asked Coren.

  “Almost certainly.”

  “Okay, I might have something for you then. Be back soon.”

  Coren merely nodded, his fingers dancing across the terminal and his eyes locked on the holoscreen. Tag felt Sofia’s eyes on him until he reached the hatch then jogged down the corridor back to the med bay. Back to where he’d left Alpha One. The hatch to the bay opened, and he leapt in, rushing to the lab and enduring the lengthy air wash of the decon chamber. Once the hatch opened, he scanned the space. It was exactly as he’d left it. Terminals buzzing. Lab equipment spilled and smashed from his struggle with Alpha One. Cables stretched to upload data into the synth-bio lifeform.

  But those cables led nowhere. Alpha One was missing.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Tag rubbed his eyes, unable to believe what lay in front of him.

  “No,” he muttered. “No, no, no!”

  The cables he’d linked to Alpha One’s data ports dangled uselessly from the terminal. The wrist and ankle restraints were splayed and ripped. He spun, searching the small room, but saw no sign of the bot. Where had it gone?

  He exited through the decon chamber and scoured the med bay for some clue, but again, no evidence of the silver droid appeared anywhere. His heart climbed into his throat as possible explanations circled his mind. He felt at once helpless and slightly frightened. Had someone come aboard the ship while he was stuck in that underground jungle? Maybe the Drone-Mechs had already found the Argo, and this whole thing was a setup. Three hells, for that matter, maybe Coren had sent scouts to the ship prior to their arrival.

  No, no, he tried to assure himself he was being paranoid, but his self-assurances did little to assuage his pounding heart and the adrenaline already pumping through his veins. The Drone-Mechs had fooled him once, and anxiety proved too strong a persuader against the logical voice telling him they were dead, he’d killed them, made sure of it, and they weren’t coming back. His apprehension got the better of him, and he rushed through the passageways and skittered down the ladders to the brig. Sweat matted his shirt to his back, and he panted, breathing heavily. He punched in the commands to open the brig, and the hatch hissed back, revealing the polyglass chamber where the three suited bodies of the Mechanics still resided.

  All three still appeared dead, soaking in puddles of their own blood.

  Good, Tag thought, catching his breath. He combed his fingers through his sweat-matted hair. But one question still haunted him. “Alpha One, where are you?”

  He racked his mind for answers, but none came. None until the ship’s comms buzzed.

  Sofia’s voice, uncharacteristically nervous and timid, broke over the intraship speakers. “Tag, we need you at the bridge.”

  An uneasy feeling overcame him. He feared they’d already found Alpha. All his bruises and injuries from his struggle with the unevolved AI system seemed to radiate with fresh pain as he ran through the passageway, and each loping step sent shudders through his aching jaw and battered ribs. He’d barely been able to subdue the droid before. What would he do now that he’d uploaded an entire ship’s worth of knowledge into the monster he’d created?

  The answer came soon enough.

  He burst into the bridge. Coren was standing in submission, his thin arms raised in the air. Next to him, Sofia mirrored his pose. Neither looked in his direction. Instead, they stared fixedly at something else, something he couldn’t see yet. He took a few more timid steps, reached for his sidearm, then pulled out his pulse pistol and held it before him. His heartbeat thumped in his eardrums with the heavy beat of the Forinth drum used to keep the ice gods out, and he sucked in a deep breath as he spun to face what Coren and Sofia were surrendering to.

  Alpha One.

  The silver medical droid had a mini-Gauss shouldered and aimed at Sofia and Coren. It peered down the rifle in a distinctly human fashion, while its faux eyes and mouth remained motionless.

  Tag raised the pulse pistol and pointed it at Alpha One’s center of mass. The droid didn’t seem to notice him. “Put down your weapon, Alpha.”

  “Captain,” the former med bay droid said in crisp, cl
ear English with a distinctly feminine voice. “We have intruders.”

  The pistol never strayed from Alpha, but a tingle of curiosity—and pride, maybe—coursed through Tag. His creation was calm, collected. A far cry from the writhing, angry monster it had been before. “These are welcome guests, Alpha.”

  “Are you certain, Captain?”

  Not exactly, Tag thought, considering Coren. But all he said was, “Yes.”

  Alpha’s weapon wavered slightly, but its aim moved to Coren and remained on the Mechanic.

  “Are you sure this one is not an enemy?” Alpha said. “According to your reports and the bodies I found in the brig, this lifeform matches those of the pirates.”

  “I understand, Alpha,” Tag said, willing his voice to stay as calm as the droid’s. “But this one is helping us.”

  Alpha took a step forward, and Coren tensed. Then the droid lowered its weapon, slinging the strap around its shoulder, and closed the distance between the Mechanic and itself. Its hand shot out, and Coren winced.

  “I am Alpha One,” it said, offering its silver digits for a handshake. “I apologize for the misunderstanding. I am very pleased to meet you.”

  Coren took the bot’s hand timidly. “Coren.”

  Alpha swiveled to Sofia. “Alpha One.”

  “Sofia.”

  “Great.” Tag clapped his hands together, his nerves still barking from the tense excitement. So many questions flowed through his mind, but none were more immediate or crucial than the one he asked. “Coren, how’s progress?”

  “I was doing fine until it”—he gestured to Alpha—“interrupted my work.” Coren paused. “Interesting creation.”

  Tag wasn’t sure if he detected sarcasm or actual admiration in Coren’s tone. He decided it wasn’t important either way. “Get back to it then.” The nearest Drone-Mech ship was now only a half hour from sensor detection distance.

  “I am not an it,” Alpha chimed in.

  “Sorry?” Tag said.

  “I am not an it,” Alpha said, more decisively. “The cells you used in my synthetic organ system contain the XX chromosomes typical of a human female. Thus, I am a female. And if I am to understand your intent, I am a sentient being. As such, human custom dictates other sentient lifeforms regard me as a person, not an object. The proper pronoun would be ‘she.’ Coren should say he was doing fine until she interrupted his work.”