At first the doctor had assumed that the medibot had got itself stuck, that it had somehow rolled over onto its back and was unable to right itself again, like a turtle. But on closer inspection he found that the machine had been deliberately damaged. Someone had picked it up and swung it forcibly against the wall, virtually splitting the carapace from end to end.
Once more the doctor aimed the small control device at the medibot, ordering it to power down so that he could handle it without getting a neutronic shock. Again it took him several attempts, but in the end the pulse finally made it through the machine’s damaged receptors and its energy core began to power down.
He waited until he thought it was safe then prodded it cautiously with the toe of his boot. As if in answer the machine fizzed and crackled, then the lights along its outer casing blinked off and it eventually fell still and silent.
The doctor picked it up and placed it on a nearby table, its innards rattling alarmingly as it shifted in his hands. The thing sounded like it was full of large, heavy ball bearings.
He leaned further forwards, trying to peer into the cracked shell of the machine, assessing the damage. I may know next to nothing about advanced robotics, the doctor thought with a sigh, but even I can see that this thing is a lost cause.
The machine had been charging when he’d left it, so whoever had come in must have ripped it from its wall unit. He glanced across at the far wall, expecting to see the charging unit torn from its housing, but it wasn’t, it was still there in one piece.
Small mercies, he thought sourly.
That’s when he noticed that the bed was empty and the patient was nowhere to be seen.
He dropped what was left of the medibot onto the table and scuttled over to the empty bed. The covers had been tossed back into a heap in the middle which, from the doorway, had made it look like there was still someone in it.
Without thinking he reached for the panel on the wall above the bed and slammed the palm of his hand against the security button.
By the time the orderlies arrived, the medibot was all but forgotten. It would be another six hours before they realised that several pieces of its power core were missing.
*
Tobin was not good at waiting. He’d sent the communication off over an hour ago (four words, just as they’d agreed: The games have begun) but so far he still hadn’t received an acknowledgement.
This time he’d not bothered going all the way down to the ops-room. Instead, he’d ordered that all communications be channelled into his private office, and he sat staring out of the viewing window, watching the service shuttlepods ferrying the visitors back and forth.
Today he really didn’t feel like doing the meet and greets. Standing up in front of all those happy, expectant faces, going through the usually spiel of how he hoped they’d enjoy their stay on the platform, and that all their dreams, all their fantasies—no matter how depraved—were about to come true here on the Dionysus.
The communicator on his desk bleeped softly and Tobin sat up quickly in his chair, the latest batch of visitors suddenly forgotten. He slammed a palm down onto the answer button.
‘Director Tobin.’ He tried to make his voice sound as calm as possible.
‘There’s an outside communiqué for you, sir. Caller didn’t give a name, just said it was urgent and you’d know what it was about.’
‘Yes, I’ve been expecting it,’ said Tobin. ‘Patch them through please, Gira.’ He snapped the control to off, but then something seemed to suddenly occur to him, and he opened the channel again. ‘Oh and Gira, I don’t want to be disturbed for a while. I’ve got one or two personal matters to attend to. In fact, can you ask Jarvell to cover my meet and greet for the next visitor induction, please?’
‘Jarvell is off-platform at the moment, sir. Won’t be back for another 72 hours. I think Kimba is on downtime today, she might be free. I could call and ask.’
But Tobin was no longer listening. Instead his eyes were on the steadily blinking light to the left of the communication panel, the one that reminded him that there was someone waiting to speak to him on the other channel.
‘That’s great,’ he said vaguely. ‘I’ll leave that to you then, shall I?’ And he cut the line. His hand hovered above the panel for a while, his fingers clenching and flexing as he stared silently at the flashing light, steeling himself for the conversation that was to follow. After a moment or two he reached forward and opened the channel. ‘This is Director Tobin.’
‘Ah, at last. For a minute there I was beginning to think that you had forgotten me. If I didn’t know you better, Tobin, I would have said that you did it on purpose.’
The voice may have sounded playful but Tobin was no fool; he was well aware of the implications that lay beneath its tone. ‘My apologies. I was sorting out a few mundane work matters, things that needed my immediate attention. But I am here now.’ He paused, before adding unnecessarily, ‘You got my message?’
The voice sighed at the stupidity of the question. ‘Obviously. I trust everything went well?’
‘I think so, yes. At least he seemed to believe my story—after I let him threaten me for a while.’ Tobin smiled. ‘I even let that uncultured criminal Avon hit me a few times, just for effect.’
‘Showing initiative. I like that.’ And there did appear to be a tinge of genuine pleasure in the voice. ‘A pity you’re no longer with us, we could do with a few more like you in Space Command at the moment.’
Tobin chose to ignore that. ‘As you predicted he used that box-thing of his to copy all the archive files, then took them back to his ship. He seemed happy with the information I could give him.’
‘Excellent. And you gave him Travis’s name? That bit was very important.’
Tobin nodded. ‘Yes, I told him. And it’s true, Travis did give me that data slug, but that was such a long time ago now, before he went on the run. He knew that Blake would come here to the Dionysus eventually for my help. All Travis wanted was for me to hand over the slug, then let him know when it was done so he could prepare an ambush. He just wanted Blake and the Liberator, that was all.’
‘I assure you, Tobin, my intentions are the same. I have merely…tweaked the plan a little. That fool Travis failed to understand the implications of the name Kodyn Tam. I did not. That is why I have adjusted the plan accordingly. Using their names makes things much more…tempting for Blake.
Tobin decided to remain silent.
‘What about the transmitting device inside Tam?’
‘He had one of our doctors disable it. It was the only way they could shut it off without killing him.’
‘But my ships are still tracking the signal.’
‘Blake had one of his women alter the distress beacon on a shuttlepod so that it would pulse on a similar frequency.’
‘How remarkably inventive of him.’ The voice was impressed. ‘I’ve obviously been underestimating Blake’s tenacity all this time. Where is he now?’
‘Back onboard his ship. They are hiding somewhere nearby, waiting for your pursuit ships to pass out of range.’ Tobin said.
‘Then I shall tell my fleet captain to remain on course with the signal. Once I have received a further signal that Blake is on the move I will have them alter course and follow beyond detector range.’
Tobin drummed his fingers on the desk impatiently; the conversation was not going quite the way he had planned. ‘Wait a minute—what further signal? That was not our agreement.’ He jabbed a finger at the communication panel. ‘You said there was only one more thing that you needed me to do and after that our bargain would be complete.’
‘Ah, yes, that. I’m afraid I won’t be able to uphold my end of the deal after all.’
‘What? I don’t understand.’ Fear began to claw at Tobin then. It hung around him like a thick pall of mist. ‘You promised me that you would do everything you could to get my son back.’
‘I did say that, you’re absolutely right. But unfortunatel
y I was lying.’ The voice sounded amused. ‘You see, your son is dead, Tobin. He died a couple of years ago.’
The news arrived like a backhand to his face. Tobin’s first instinct was to stand up and leave the room, to get away from the cruel, mocking voice on the other end of the communicator, but his legs refused to obey him. He fell back down again into his chair and stared at the blazing white light on the communication panel for a long while. His lips flapped silently as though all words had become lodged in his throat. He felt ridiculous, like a fish that had been dragged out of the water and was now gasping uselessly at the air, waiting for death.
‘He’s…dead?’ Tobin managed to jerk out at last. ‘How?’
‘Does that really matter now?’ the voice asked.
‘I need to know if my son suffered,’ Tobin pleaded. ‘Was it quick, when the end came?’
There was a silence, as though the voice at the other end of the open channel was considering whether to lie to him or not.
Finally the voice told him, ‘No, it wasn’t quick. From what I can gather your son died in a great deal of agony. There was nothing our cyberneticists could do for him.’
‘Cyberneticists?’ Tobin was confused. ‘I don’t understand. You said that he was on Pharrox…’
‘Another lie. As was my promise that I would let you live, I’m afraid.’ The voice chuckled delightedly. ‘I’ve hardly been truthful with you at all really, have I?’
Tobin looked up as the side door to his office clanked open. Two Federation troopers stepped briskly in from the room beyond, visors obscuring their faces, weapons raised and levelled in his direction. For a second or two he didn’t react, just sat there glaring across at his two new guests as though they were nothing more than some minor irritant interrupting his private conversation.
Slowly Tobin turned back to the communication panel. ‘What about the signal?’
‘Signal?’
‘You said you wanted me to inform you when Blake was on the move again.’ Tobin said.
‘A misunderstanding on your part,’ came the answer. ‘A signal will be sent, but not by you. The two gentlemen who have just joined you will be quite capable of transmitting the signal, when the time comes.’
One of the troopers stepped closer, the muzzle of his gun now level with Tobin’s head.
‘And now our business is concluded. But first I would like to thank you, Tobin, for all you’ve done in helping me capture Blake and his crew. I couldn’t have done it without you. Fleet Captain, you may proceed.’
The trooper only fired a single shot; it was all that was needed. Tobin was killed instantly. The trooper had done this kind of thing before, hundreds of times, quelling dozens of civilian uprisings while honing his execution skills. The shot entered the skull just above the bridge of the nose, spraying fragments of bone and brain across the viewing window behind him. Tobin spasmed only once, before falling onto the desk.
The troopers dragged the body from the chair and dumped it over in the corner before quickly locking both doors. After that they settled down to wait for Blake to make his move.
PART THREE
Project Archangel
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Liberator drifted silently amongst the ancient dust and rocks of Gamma Xenos III’s planetary rings. Its life support and drive systems had been cycled down to bare minimum and now it was just another piece of space flotsam floating amongst the lifeless debris that circled the blue gas giant. Every now and then small correctional jets along its port and starboard flanks would splutter into life, pushing the ship out of harm’s way whenever a jagged splinter of ice or large chunk of rock wandered dangerously close.
It was a trick that Jenna had picked up from her days as a smuggler; it had been a bit of a favourite with an old colleague of hers called Virna. She told Vila that she always referred to it as silent running. Vila informed her that he had a much better and far more accurate name for it—certain death.
What bothered Vila was the close proximity of thousands of huge lumps of deadly rock. No, actually what bothered Vila most was the fact that the Liberator had its drive systems and weapon systems all but switched off and was pretty much drifting helplessly without engines or a means of defence…that and the close proximity of thousands of huge lumps of deadly rock. Both scenarios were completely insane in Vila’s eyes, but to combine the two…. he had yet to invent a suitable adjective that best summed up just how insane this situation actually was.
‘Relax, Vila,’ Blake had told him. ‘We’re totally safe. Nothing is going to hit us.’
‘And even if something did, with the force wall powered down we wouldn’t feel a thing, we’d be vaporised instantly,’ Avon added with a smile.
‘You’re only saying that to cheer me up.’ Vila finished off the adrenalin and soma in one, long gulp, then immediately refilled his glass. This time he didn’t stop pouring until the liquid was almost overflowing.
On the table in front of him, Orac began to whirr that little bit louder, indicating that he was about to impart something of great importance which, as far as Vila was aware, seemed to be anything and everything it had to say. ‘Federation ships are now passing the Dionysus platform at a distance of 3,000 spacials, as yet no deviation has been detected. Present course and speed would suggest that they are in pursuit of the shuttlepod.’
Vila was obviously delighted by this and raised his glass in salute towards Orac. ‘Great. Does that mean we can get out of here now?’
Blake shook his head. ‘Not until they’re far enough away.’ He turned, glancing across at the oval panel on the far wall. ‘Zen, how long until we’re out of range of the Federation ships’ detectors?’
Lights moved along the surface of the panel. ‘AT PRESENT SPEED AND COURSE, LIBERATOR WILL BE OUT OF DETECTOR RANGE IN 38 MINUTES AND 27 SECONDS.’
‘Let’s hope that they don’t catch up with the shuttlepod before then.’ Cally said.
‘I don’t think that will happen,’ Avon told her.
Cally nodded, looking pleased by this news. ‘That is good to hear.’
‘It’s far more likely that the transmitter array will have blown long before they catch up with it,’ Avon said.
*
It wasn’t the clearest of images, but it was the best that Orac said he could find in the archives. Even so, the object was still easily identifiable.
At first it looked like a series of circular cracks on the northern hemisphere of the planet, as though the world were an egg and something had punctured and cracked its shell. But then, as Orac began to zoom in, it started to look more like a vast, silver web that had been spun by some giant, mutant spider 1,000 spacials above the planet’s surface. Of course it was neither. Exactly what it was became clear the moment the vid-clip was at full magnification.
Up close the structure was really quite mundane, not to mention ugly. Its reinforced carbo-steel support struts were blackened by years of exhaust energy from the retro-burners of the ships that had been launched from its skeletal innards.
‘The great Callidus shipyards,’ Blake announced, somewhat grandly. Vila was almost disappointed. ‘That’s it? An abandoned shipyard? That’s what all the fuss has been about? That…dead, blackened monstrosity is Archangel?’
‘Don’t be stupid, Vila,’ Jenna snapped.
‘The lair of the great metal spider god.’
Although Cally’s words were softly spoken, they had been loud enough for everyone on the flight deck to hear them. It took her a moment or two to realise that all conversation had stopped and every pair of eyes was looking in her direction.
Blake raised an inquisitive eyebrow. ‘Is there something you want to share with the rest of us?’
‘Actually, I’m not sure I want to hear about it,’ Vila said under his breath.
‘It was something my father told us when we were very young. I had always assumed that it was a children’s story—a fiction designed to be used as a warning to children, like the S
pirits of the M’garta or the Thaarn.’ Cally nodded towards the viewscreen. ‘The story told of a great metal spider god who spun a web so vast that it circled an entire planet. Ahmak, the greatest of all Auron warriors was sent to talk to the spider god and beg for the release of the people of the planet that she had imprisoned.’
‘Let me guess,’ said Vila. ‘The spider god wasn’t quite as understanding as the Aurons had hoped?’
Cally shook her head. ‘Ahmak was captured and eaten by the spider god.’
A shiver of fear ran down Vila’s spine. He was right, he really didn’t want to hear that story.
‘Fairy stories,’ said Orac, ‘and totally immaterial to the matter in hand. Exactly the type of reason why the Callidus shipyards have been the subject of superstition and rumour for most of their working life, even amongst the Federation pilots themselves. Everything that was done there was highly classified. Even movement in and out of the sector was strictly limited to shipyard personnel.’
‘So no one knows what work went on there, and we’re still no nearer an explanation as to why the place was shut down,’ said Vila, gloomily. ‘Great, thanks Orac.’
‘Use your eyes, Vila.’ Blake gestured towards the image on the viewscreen. ‘Isn’t it obvious why they shut the place down? An explosion on that scale would have wiped out the central core of the complex. I’m surprised Tobin couldn’t find any data in the archives about this.’
‘Just because he was unable to do so does not mean that the data was not there for him to find,’ Orac said. ‘Only that he did not have the advantage of an advanced computer system like me to help him.’
‘If you’re waiting for a round of applause I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed.’ Avon said. ‘If you’ve found something just tell us.’
‘I have managed to find evidence within the Federation archive files I obtained from his computer. Evidence of the kind of work that was going on inside the shipyards.
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