Morgan regularly visited his old technical officer below the two-hundred-meter-high, blue-tinted glass pyramid, in the ancient catacombs now used to store historical information. Beringer spent nearly every working hour in his office. He was the man to visit for any human requiring a deeper cultural understanding of the fidesians, but more importantly, had a useful network of colleagues throughout the sphere.
A virtual reality figure of a fidesian in traditional dress, tall and thin with green-tinged skin and wispy hair, wearing a multicolored woven robe, appeared on a sheet of glass when he entered the complex. “Welcome to the Remembrance Center. Would you like to take the official tour?”
“No, thanks. I’m here to see Theo. I’ll show myself to his office.”
The figure steepled her fingers and bowed her head. “Have a pleasant day.”
So far Morgan’s day had been far from pleasant. He spent most of it drafting personal letters to the families of the Orbital Forty victims. Some thought it an unfashionable thing to do, but he thought the old tradition carried more meaning than an electronic message.
A group of thirty human, fidesian and fidian children in their matching yellow uniforms moved around the eroded statues of mythical creatures and tall glass display cabinets containing excavated artifacts, tapping notes into their smart-screens. Morgan headed for the underground display of cave paintings and basic tools, created thousands of years ago during the fidesians’ version of the Stone Age.
Fidesians took their culture seriously and this place was as much a temple as a museum. Morgan stood on the electronic ramp and cruised down the catacombs at a gentle speed while a neutrally accented female voice talked through an overhead speaker in Salus Common, the hybrid language used by the fidesians and humans, which was thankfully dominated by English. She was explaining the evolution of the species from cave-dwelling hunters to sophisticated artists and explorers.
The tour led left at the bottom of the ramp, along a clean brightly lit tunnel. Morgan headed right, past the vaults containing the non-displayed items and shelves of historical documents. Beringer’s office was at the end of the smooth stone corridor. He loved being close to the detail, he always did, and predicted a lot of the horan moves accurately during the Century War.
Morgan raised his hand to the authentication pad outside Beringer’s door. Before his palm connected with the black glass plate, the door slid open with a pneumatic hiss.
Beringer relaxed back in his antique brown leather chair and smoothed the sides of his wiry gray hair. Light brown scrolls were piled on the left-hand side of his desk. A monitor and touch pad sat on the right-hand side. Three slabs of stone, with ancient symbols chipped into their sides, leaned against the back wall of his brightly lit office.
“Admiral Morgan, what can I do for you today?” Beringer said and peered at him with his light green eyes. He’d instructed the medical support unit to create him a new pair of fidian eyes after losing his sight due to age-related macular degeneration. Morgan still couldn’t get used to them. He’d engineered himself to be a hybrid, but the fidesians and fidians loved him for it.
“The Atlantis ship’s back. I’ve been tasked with destroying or capturing it.”
Beringer’s eyes widened. He bolted forward, tapped on the touch pad and swung his monitor to face Morgan. “The myth becomes reality. One of my team found this in a cave on the other side of the planet. Take a look at this.”
Morgan squinted at the image of a carving on a wall of rock, brightened by artificial light. He recognized the shape of the Atlantis ship instantly. Boltan, the fidesian god of destruction, stood next to it and held a sphere.
“How old is that?” Morgan said.
“At least four thousand years. I’ve collected every single known occurrence and still can’t work out a pattern. It might help if I had access to the horan records.”
“I’m sure you know a man who can get them,” Morgan said. He sat on the plastic chair in front of Beringer. “That’s the reason I’m here. I need your help.”
“Why come to me? You’re an admiral with powerful resources at your fingertips.”
Morgan sighed. “You’d think so, but it doesn’t work like that. I’m no more than a desk jockey nowadays, but finding the ship can get me back into active service. I’m putting a specialist team together, but it’s top secret.”
“What kind of top secret?” Beringer said, raising an eyebrow, creasing the wrinkled skin on his forehead. “The type that Kenwright doesn’t know about?”
“You know me too well. I’ve recruited Carson Mach and tasked him with putting together a crew.”
“Mach?” Beringer laughed and continued to tap his spindly fingers against the smart-screen. “I can see why you need to keep this under wraps. I’m surprised he hasn’t drunk himself to death.”
“He’ll survive longer than all of us. I want you to join him. If he finds the ship, we need to get our hands on the tech and harness it.”
Beringer stopped typing and looked up. “I gave that kind of work up years ago. The only man I know who can do it and would join the crew is Kingsley Babcock.”
Morgan shook his head. “You can’t be serious? I can take the heat for a secret mission using Mach. Babcock would kill any chance I have of returning to the fight.”
“It was twenty years ago. Most people have forgotten about it.”
“The marshal won’t forget the hundred thousand casualties after he hacked into the vestan artefact.”
“He didn’t know about the virus,” Beringer said. “Marshal Kenwright should remember who programmed the AI-driven advanced combat systems that tipped the war in our favor.”
“People always remember the screwups. I can pay him well and the fleet won’t know a thing.” Morgan sat back and thought for a moment. Babcock was the finest technical mind in the CW. He escaped into exile after unleashing the virus while trying to gain a better understanding of vestan technology. If Mach captured the Atlantis ship, Babcock would be the best man for the job. “The problem is locating him. He could be anywhere in the Salus Sphere.”
Beringer bowed his head. “I’m still in touch with him. He keeps his finger on the CW pulse and we share information on the Atlantis ship. If anyone can track it or predict a behavior model, it’s Kingsley.”
The revelation came as no surprise. Morgan knew Beringer and Babcock were tight during their time in the fleet. Kindred spirits with insatiable curiosities and a shared obsession about the Atlantis ship. Neither of them ever accepted the myth.
“Can you contact him and get his agreement?”
“Only if you promise he doesn’t end up in a Summanun cell.”
“You have my word on it,” Morgan said. “Please do it as soon as you can. I’ll communicate with Mach when you give me Babcock’s coordinates.”
Beringer smiled. “I’ve already messaged him.”
Morgan’s screen flashed. He glanced down at the display. “I’ve got to go. I’ll trust you to explain the situation.”
Morgan stood and left the office, pleased that he had a team in place that was capable of finding and hacking the Atlantis ship. If they could survive an initial meeting.
***
Morgan left the Remembrance Center and climbed into a transport pod. Operations had messaged him, requesting his presence in the center. Horan destroyers were on the move. “Command center, please.”
The pod whined through the apartment blocks at the western end of the base. Morgan gazed at the sun reflecting off the shimmering glass structures. They replaced the older traditional-style housing that the humans first built on arrival in the Salus Sphere.
Confident that he’d put together the best combination to track and hack the Atlantis ship, it now meant he could focus on the horan threat. They would already know about the Orbital Forty and be carefully monitoring CW movements.
The pod stopped him outside the command center block. Morgan returned inside and took the elevator to the eighth floor. As usual,
they would report events to him and communicate strategy, and expect him to play nodding dog. But he’d already decided to start taking a more proactive role.
Organizing the secret mission had reinvigorated him and stiffened his resolve to get back amongst the action. If the horans were planning an attack, the CW needed combat-experienced officers to lead the fight.
Morgan approached the central operations desk. “Update me on the movements.”
A young fidian lieutenant pointed to a large screen on the left, monitoring the noncombat zone around the sphere and a small area of the Axis territory beyond. “A group of five horan destroyers have gathered on their frontier, a light-year from Retsina.”
“We think they’re trying to take advantage of the wormhole attack.”
Morgan gazed at the screens. It didn’t make sense that the horans would use such an unsophisticated plan to probe with five destroyers. They would realize that a heavily armed CW ship would be heading for the area to bolster the frontier.
“What formation are they using?” Morgan said.
“They’re extended across an AU, orbiting a series of dwarf planets.”
“The captain’s ordering four more of our destroyers to the area.”
Morgan shook his head. “Tell them to stand down. Horans wouldn’t send five destroyers into the Salus Sphere. Keep me updated if you see any more buildup.”
“But, sir,” the lieutenant said. “The captain has authority—”
“From now on, any CW movements come through me. We may be entering a period of war, and another enemy has returned. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No, sir, but I’ll have to speak to the captain. It’s going against his direct orders. ”
“I’ll speak to the Ops command and let them know the new approval line.”
Morgan scanned the monitoring screens. The horans had a reason for being in that location. They had a reason for doing everything. This wasn’t just a case of waiting for the CW to commit their resources to a search and taking advantage. If they weren’t planning an attack, their presence could only mean one thing. They were also looking for the Atlantis ship.
The consequence of the horans finding it and harnessing the tech sent a shiver down Morgan’s spine. Mach’s mission had taken on an even greater significance.
Chapter Seven
Mach was sitting in the captain’s chair. He gazed at the two JPs maneuvering the holocontrols. Wet behind the ears, inexperienced, and would likely crumble if the shit hit the fan. The Vekron Valley had been quiet so far, but he’d expected that while on their light drive.
During the first part of the journey, Mach rested in the sleeping bays and left them to monitor the ship during the L-jump. He busied himself and read as much information as he could find on the Atlantis ship. Disappointingly, most were Salus network posts by conspiracy theorists. He needed to find a technical expert who had a real interest in the alleged myth.
Danick and Lassea changed to the shuttle’s fusion motors as they approached the Valta asteroid belt, telling Mach they were only half an AU to Summanus. This was a prime hijack zone. Ships were forced to slow in order to navigate through without taking significant impacts.
One of the console screens let out a high electronic beep. Danick peered down and quickly turned. “We’ve got five unidentified ships. Four klicks away and heading in our direction, Captain.”
“You can drop the rank now,” Mach said. “I stopped playing military man years ago.”
“Did you hear me? Five ships!”
Mach smiled back at his panic-stricken face.
As predicted, the JPs would be tested and would prove either way if they were suitable for the mission. If they failed to come through this minor problem, he’d need to find a good pilot from the prison.
“What do you want us to do?” Lassea said.
The Phalanx-E provided a nice target for pirates. Mach would’ve been disappointed if pirates didn’t take the bait. No visible weapons and the possibility of ransoming a dignitary, how could they not decide to take a bite?
“Keep at full speed and head for the closest part of the belt,” Mach said. “Follow my instructions and you’ll get out of this in one piece.”
“We should’ve known,” Danick said. “The AI—”
“Screw the AI.” Mach stood and walked to the console. Five green dots, without the standard CW ship codes above, flashed on the edge of the screen. Two split in either direction; one maintained a course directly behind them—the classic pincer movement of pirate fighters. They were gaining on the Phalanx-E.
“We’ll be in the belt in a minute,” Lassea said. “I need to slow us.”
“Hold your nerve and take her in,” Mach said. He watched the monitor. Two fighters headed below them on the starboard side, two high on port. “Let’s find out just how much they want us.”
Lassea thrust to port and passed between the first two asteroids. Danick leaned in his seat and winced as they narrowly avoided the huge piece of rock on their starboard side. The way ahead looked impassable, but it always did because of the different sizes and orbits.
“Commonwealth ship,” a voice crackled on the intergalactic distress frequency. Mach loved how the pirates abused the channel for their holdups. “Return to the valley or we fire. You can make this easy on yourselves if you just give up now.”
“What do we reply?” Danick said.
“Nothing,” Mach said. “Maintain your speed and head for the middle of the belt.”
“We’ll get hit if we don’t thrust,” Lassea said. “It’s too dense.”
A small rock bashed against the side of the Phalanx-E and the cockpit juddered. Mach grabbed the arm of his chair to maintain balance. “These E classes have five times the heavy armor as a pirate fighter.”
“We can’t take hits from asteroids and lasers.”
“Have faith in CW design,” Mach said, enjoying watching the flustered two young officers out of their comfort zone. If they were coming along, this was only a starter. “If you want to return to your comfy apartments on Fides Prime, follow exactly what I say.”
Danick glanced down at the tracking monitor. “They’re almost on top of us.”
“Commonwealth ship,” the voice crackled again. “This is your final chance.”
Mach configured the distress frequency on his smart-screen and raised it. “Give it your best, shitbird.”
A rock bounced off the side of the Phalanx-E. The ship vibrated and something dropped to the floor behind Mach. An alarm repeatedly bleeped. Lassea gasped. “Our port thruster’s gone. I need to reduce our speed.”
A red laser zipped past the front window and hit an asteroid. Tiny fragments of rock chipped away into a small cloud of dust.
“You see that?” Mach said. “They ain’t gonna hurt us. I want you to head directly for that asteroid and thrust to starboard to hit it side on.”
Danick spun and gave Mach a wild-eyed glare. “You’ve got to be kidding me?”
“Not in the slightest,” Mach said. “We’re going to play a game of skillion.”
Lassea set a course for the asteroid and glanced over her shoulder. “You want to knock it out of its trajectory and disturb the others around it?”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. The ship can take it. The pirates can’t.”
The shuttle jolted. Mach knew the pirates would score a hit eventually, but they were using scare tactics. It served no purpose to destroy the Phalanx-E. The pirates were banking on the pilots to surrender. If Mach wasn’t here, they probably already would have.
Half a klick from the asteroid, only slightly smaller than their ship, Lassea engaged the starboard thruster and they spun on their axis, positioning the heavy side armor toward it.
Mach checked the monitor again. The pirates had closed right up and clustered behind them. The heat traces from their weapons registered at regular intervals.
The brother and sister held hands and braced. Mach held the arms of
his chair and hoped for a decent bounce. The density of the asteroid belt thinned half a klick away and they’d enter Summanus’ space zone, safe from the pirates.
A laser hit their underside and rocked Mach out of his chair. He held his breath. The shuttle slammed into the side of the asteroid and the structure groaned. An array of alarms beeped on the console. Danick and Lassea frantically spun their holocontrols to set the shuttle back on course.
“Put the rear camera on-screen,” Mach said.
Danick nodded and manipulated a floating green cube on his left. The top screen flicked from status indicators and measurements to a view from their stern.
They had managed to knock the asteroid into a new orbit. It crashed against a smaller one and sent it hurtling into others. Mach glanced down at the tracking monitor. The pirates split in different directions away from the shuttle. One disappeared.
A burst of fire erupted behind a large asteroid. Parts of a fighter scattered into space, colliding with smaller rocks.
Mach continued to survey the monitor. The remaining fighters continued away, but he decided to keep his eye on them. He knew they often used this tactic as a ruse to launch another assault.
Lassea puffed her cheeks. “I don’t think we can afford to take another hit. The armor’s down to ten percent effectiveness and the thruster’s going to need repairing.”
“Keep switched on,” Mach said. “Rule number one: put your biggest strength against their biggest weakness. They didn’t have our range or integrity. Rule number two: never surrender unless you want your throats cut.”
Danick and Lassea ignored him and continued to fiddle with the controls. He was confident they got the message.
***
Carson Mach 1: The Atlantis Ship Page 5
