by Rupert Segar
Garth was bemused but not surprised when the iris style airlock simply opened as he approached in his environment suit. He and five special boat squadron marines drifted slowly into the airlock. Once the last trooper had cleared the doorway, the airlock cycle began, promptly dropping them all to the floor with a sudden increase in artificial gravity. On board, all the doors to what Garth presumed were store rooms or cabins were shut fast, but the colonel and his squad had free access to a double switchback ramp and the control cabin. Garth had only ever seen 3-D vids of the cabin taken when the mysterious spaceship had been first captured. The room looked much bigger now. So it’s true, he thought, the alien ship can grow and change shape.
The three traitors were comatose. Every system on board was equally unresponsive. Garth, along with every other citizen of the Empire, had heard the hushed rumours of some mechanical intelligence operating the ship but there was no sign. Maybe the alien intelligence that inhabited this alien ship is dead, he thought, then again, maybe not. Perhaps the lights, the air and the gravity, along with the air lock, were just automotive functions like a Human sleeper breathing. That’s it, the artificial entity is sleeping. The sooner I’m off this vessel the better.
One of the marines stationed at the air lock marched up the switchback ramp. The trooper clearly had a message to deliver. Frustratingly, inside the alien ship comms did not work. The colonel had two marines at the airlock: one, a sergeant, on the inside; the other a regular marine, if you could say that about anyone in the special boat squadron, suited up in the open outer doorway. The marine with the easier duty now saluted Garth.
“Dreadnaught Mercury has arrived from Fair Isles, sir. They say the Orion is returning with the rest of the remainder of the fleet. Will you be staying on board here until they arrive?”
Not for the sake of Einstein, thought Garth to himself.
“No, I will accompany the traitors to Imperial Valliant,” he said to the marine. “Einstein knows what mischief this lot could get up to if they woke up in here.”
“Excuse me, sir. Why can’t we just kill them here and now. It’d be a lot simpler.”
“No, sergeant, the Empire has bigger plans for these traitors.”
Chapter 32: Loading Bay 7
Long metal hawsers were wrapped around the Ship, mooring the vessel to the edge of the dock in loading bay 7. The vast space doors were open revealing the blurred traces of starlight seen through the fog of the Upper Realm. The flagship and its 250 strong fleet of warships were once again en route to the guardian world of Fair Isles. The alien vessel still seemed to be adrift, passively hanging in the vacuum of the Upper Realm: the lights were on but no-one was home. Colonel Garth looked on as the force field blistered outwards surrounding the Ship, allowing a bubble of atmosphere to envelope the vessel. A ramp extended and a troop of engineers and marines marched into the iris airlock, dragging cables behind them. Mad Peter scampered after them, disappearing into the Ship.
Above the command desk the vid screen showed multiple images of the boarding party’s progress. The signals were being conveyed by several of the cables being dragged into the Ship. On the far right of the screen were three boxed images showing the comatose forms of Art, Yelena, Carole, the casket head and the two nurses. All six were in a large medical bay attended by poisoner medics: the twisted technicians who, right across the Empire, tortured and interrogated suspects. Their thumb less hands flapped across the captives’ trunks and heads attaching drip feeds, sensors and stimulators.
My liege is that wise?” asked the Emperor of the Brood King. “The last time our rogue pilot and traitorous chief engineer were connected to our computer systems, they, or something they possess, took control.”
“Bah! That was just the element of surprise,” spluttered the head swinging below the arachnid’s belly. “No species can match the brood’s ability to govern computers. I now have cybernetic controls in place. If they but try to subvert Orion’s control and command systems, they will be extinguished.”
Sire! Sire!” shouted Mad Peter over one of the cable coms link. On the vid screen, he was waving a collection of jacks and plugs. “There is nothing to connect to in the control cabin, no socket, no portal, nothing.”
“Then break open the control panel and hardwire a connection!” shouted the Brood King’s mouthpiece head, before coughing up blue liquid.
On the vid screen, Peter indicated to his right. The marine controlled camera panned left. There were three technicians using laser cutters on the pilot’s strategy board. There were flashes of bright lights and arcs of electric discharge but as the camera zoomed in there was no sign of any damage to the panel.
“Sire, the entire interior appears to be protected by a force field,” said Mad Peter, grinning inanely. “Laser cutters, diamond drills and sonic screwdrivers have no effect. What the heck? …”
The camera swung back to Peter, who was struggling with the multi-lead of connectors. An invisible force seemed to be tugging at the plugs and jacks. They were snatched out of Peter’s hands and the cable was pulled to the rear of the cabin, where a small door briefly opened to admit the connectors then slammed shut. The marine carrying the camera ran to the door and knelt down. There was a neat circular hole where the cable passed through the entrance.
“Battle is begun!” belched the mouthpiece head, as a football sized spider stepped up onto the green slime tray in front of the Brood King.
+++
Colonel Garth walked along a gravel path passing between tropical vines and bushes walking by water fountains and rockery features with cascading waterfalls. Orion, the largest space ship ever built, contained three parkland sites: one tropical with a wide diversity of plants and animals; a temperate zone mostly given over to Arcadian pastures and floral borders; and, an arctic zone reserved for skiing and power tobogganing.
Garth sat down on a vine covered stone bench and removed a tall metallic cylinder the size of a drinks thermos from a holdall bag. He carefully brushed leaves and twigs off the bench beside him and set the cylinder down. He pressed a button in the centre of the circular top and the stasis flask clicked open, the lid splitting in two and folding outwards. Garth Looked at the stormy sky high above, full of purple and green clouds, the Colonel knew the holographic weather disguised vents which provided refreshed recycled air to the rest of the ship.
Chapter 33: The Dark Wood
Art was running along a narrow dark track winding through a thick forest. On either side, some creatures were crashing through the undergrowth. Up ahead he could hear Yelena shouting and a horse whinnying.
Is this the wild wood? Am I in the simulacrum? Art asked himself.
“Yes, but you have been captured and the integrity of the simulacrum has been compromised,” said a voice inside Art’s head with a metallic twang.
Is that you, my guardian angel?
"I am not a spirit. I am a bundle of engrams encoded into your earpiece and some of your widgets. I am here to protect you.”
Art looked round. He was still in the middle of a thick forest of trees and bushes.
Why can’t you wake me up?
“You are in a medical bay on board Orion. We have been here before.”
Last time you woke me up. Why can’t you do it this time?
“The medics have put you into a deep coma. I cannot rouse you. Whatever role you have in this conflict must be played out in the simulacrum. What is more, the medi lab and this virtual reality system have been isolated from other systems on Orion. I am looking for a route out.”
Art was out of the woods and running up a narrow boulder strewn path. On either side there were a dozen or so of the black bellied, sharp beaked creatures like the one he had seen before. Art realised he was holding a sword. He thrashed it from side to side keeping the monsters at bay.
“I have found a link to the communication system for the fleet,” said the voice in Art’s head. “Working …”
+++
A long seri
es of binary digits were received by Orion’s central control and command computer. In response, a security protocol, made up of engrams buried deep in the computers programming, came on line. It was immediately beset by counter programmes designed to prevent the flagship’s systems being subverted. A cybernetic guerrilla war broke out with strikes and counter strikes taking place within milliseconds. The alien security protocol was driven out of many of the interlocked systems but kept control of environmental controls and, vitally, fleet comms.
Orion, the largest spaceship ever built and 250 imperial warships dropped back into normal space 125 million kilometres away from Fair Isles, or where that planet should have been, were it not cocooned inside a hypersphere of infinite space. The dodecahedron made up of twelve interlocked fields of inverted flux protected the planet from any invading armada but it also kept the guardians inside in a prison. However, those inside the barricade had the keys.
The security protocol inside the fleet comms system on board Orion detected one of the twelve fields collapsing. A single shuttle emerged. The alien bundle of engrams recognised the vessel’s design and sent a number of orders to the fleet. The protocol then redoubled its efforts to take control of Orion’s internal comms net.
+++
“Those cowards will not defeat me,” growled the head hanging below the Brood King’s belly, as it swept the body of a spider off the green slime sensor pad in front of the arachnid ruler. A replacement spider stepped up onto the pad. “Where is Garth, and why have we dropped out of hyper flight too early?”
“Sir,” said Colonel Garth walking into loading bay 7 from the inner door. “We are unable to command fleet comms, parts of navigation and the environment systems.”
“My Liege, would it not be better if we disconnected those rebels from the main computer system?” implored the Emperor. “Last time, on his own, Art King took over the entire vessel.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that I am in control?” gurgled the dangling head. “Forewarned is forearmed, I have the alien ship and all its crew bottled up. The extra assault comes from another direction and I will crush it. Meanwhile, I am using the alien vessel’s own sensorium to defeat our enemies. I will expose their secrets and burn their circuits.
+++
Art rounded a large boulder and found Yelena as herself and Sy as a bare chested centaur. They were ringed by a small mob of monsters. Yelena had two swords and was jabbing at any of the creatures that came too close; Sy was rearing up and lashing out with her hooves. Art joined the pair and all the monsters that had been pursuing him added their weight to the surrounding hoard. The black beaked creatures ahead of Art, Yelena and Sy continually gave ground while those behind them pressed forward, even at the cost of cuts and slashes.
“We’re being herded like sheep,” said Art between grunts and thrusts. “Where’s the Ship or Mr Angry?”
Yelena momentarily shrugged her shoulders then stabbed both left and right.
“The Ship, or rather, six of the pods are in the simulacrum but they are not in control of it,” said the voice in Art’s head.
The monstrous bat like creatures ahead drew aside to reveal a cliff edge. Art, Yelena and Sy stopped fighting as they took in the spectacle. The monsters too stopped, maybe in awe of the sight as well. The tall cliff seemed to stand on the edge of space and in the void tumbled an asteroid field illuminated by a distant sun. As one mountain sized rock drifted past, Yelena pointed with one of her swords.
“There’s, the Ship,” she said, as they all spotted the glinting silvered egg shaped vessel.
“Climb on my back,” said Sy, who had transformed into a female version of Pegasus.
The winged horse flapped her wings as Art and Yelena straddled her back and gripped her mane. Sy took three strides to the edge of the cliff and jumped. A score or so of the monsters tumbled off the edge of the cliff and flapped after the trio. Despite their ungainly flight, the creatures kept up with Sy but they stayed out of the range of her strong wings.
Sy had to veer and change course several times as one asteroid after another swept towards them. Several of the monsters were crushed and killed when they collided with the mountainous rocks. Art, who had been holding his breath anticipating a vacuum, realised there was air all around. Swooping past a smaller boulder, Sy found herself only metres from the Ship. The iris airlock flexed open and Sy landed on the deck of the Ship’s loading bay. As the iris closed, all three of them heard the thuds of the bat like monsters landing on the hull.
Yelena and Art dismounted and Sy transformed into her human form. They raced up the switch-back ramp and entered the control room. The two nurses sat at the circular table, their two medibot boxes flashing furiously. One was moaning and drooling, the other seemed comatose.
“I cannot raise the Ship. I don’t know what to do,” said Sub-Lieutenant Carole Porter, standing next to the pilot’s chair, her arms outstretched imploringly.
“Where are the pods?” asked Art.
“In their cupboard,” said Carole, and Art dashed past her.
Carole, Yelena and Sy crowded round the entrance to the pods’ sanctum. Art had clambered past the six seated egg tray holding five of the pods and was crouched down beside the bigger cup that housed Mr Angry. The bright red pod rose a few centimetres above his seat.
“What’s happening?” asked Art.
“We are under attack by the Great Plague.”
“No it’s an illusion,” insisted Art. “We are all inside the simulacrum, your simulacrum.”
“This virtual reality is not under our control,” said Mr Angry. “We are being forced to relive our birth and the battle we had with the Great Plague.”
“You won then, you can win now.”
“No, Art …” Mr Angry fell back down into his cup with a thud.
One of the grey pods rose up. “Mr Angry has lost some of his programming; we are replacing the missing code.”
Another of the pods rose up and spoke. “There were seven of us when we fought off the plague virus. Now there are only six of us.”
“If you are so vulnerable, why did you connect with Orion?”
“We had already been infected by a radio pulse which contained the virus code,” said the grey pod.
Mr Angry reanimated, floating upwards. “With effort, we can maintain our status quo but we are in effect log jammed, unable to do anything except defend and repair ourselves.”
“But how can there be plague inside the simulacrum?” said Art, exasperated. “The virus attacks everything. It would disrupt the simulacrum.”
“There’s no plague here. It is the real us, the pods on the real Ship have been infected by a malevolent agent,” said Mr Angry. “But here in the simulacrum, we are affected by the plague virus as it affects our real selves. The monster attacking us is using the effect to reproduce what happened to us at our birth. Not only is this creature trying to destroy us but it also wants the secret of our rise to consciousness.”
There was a shriek from the control room. Yelena and Carole ran back down the short corridor with Art clambering out of the egg box cupboard after them.
Two bat-like monsters were perched on the circular table. One of the nurses had collapsed to the floor. The second nurse had her head pinned to the table by a talon. Both bat like creatures were pecking at the nurse’s face.
Chapter 34: The Final Conflict
Mad Peter scurried about detaching and reattaching cables to the control desk and the antenna. The Brood King busied itself pulling switches on the Sentinel. The Emperor looked on with quiet desperation. Colonel Garth stood silently but had a smug look of expectation: he kept glancing up at the air ducts in the high ceiling.
“I am winning,” said the head dangling below the arachnid’s bloated stomach. “I have destroyed my father. I am destroying the alien machines. Without those computerised contraptions, all the humans who oppose me will be powerless.”
The sirens in loading bay 7 sounded. The v
id screen above the control panel came on and showed a small shuttle craft being escorted by two imperial frigates.
“Vessel approaching. Force screens extending,” said an automated voice.
“What is this?” demanded the Brood King. “Who has given the order to allow this?”
“Sire, we do not yet have full control of fleet comms,” said Garth. “The order must have come from the enemy.”
Garth looked quizzically at the image of the shuttle dropping from between its escorts and heading directly towards the loading bay and the alien ship tethered at the quayide.
“Stop it!” shouted the dangling head with blue bile spilling out of its mouth.
“I am not sure we can,” said the Emperor. “Once a docking order is issued the process is automatic.”
“You Humans and your pathetic dependence on computers,” growled the Brood King.
The shuttle slowed as it entered the air envelope which now extended well beyond the edge of the loading bay. On the side of the Ship facing outwards, a large iris airlock dilated and the small vessel entered.”
“Noooo,” wailed the severed head. “Garth, get the technicians off that alien vessel and send in troopers.”
Colonel Garth turned aside as he whispered orders into his lapel mic.
The giant arachnid brutally swept the football sized spider off the green slime sensor pad and stepped onto it itself.
“I must end this now. The aliens must be destroyed.”
+++
On board the ship, Yelena and Art fended off the gang of gruesome monsters who were crowded at one end of the control room. The hideous creatures took turns to lunge forward only to be beaten back by slashing and jabbing of the couple’s swords. The monsters howled with pain but were healed almost immediately. Only one creature was killed: its decapitated body disappearing in a wreath of smoke.
