by Dean M. Cole
Admiral Johnston cocked an eyebrow. "Why am I hearing about this just now, Colonel Allison?"
Richard shifted nervously under the Admiral's stare. "Well, sir, at the time, we didn't think much of it. Everything looked alien, but this looked like an afterthought, like it had been retroactively installed. The plumbing and cabling all emerged from holes that appeared to be freshly chiseled through the asteroid's rocky interior."
Remembering the device, Jake nodded. "The sphere."
"Actually, Bill, that was in his report," General Harrison said. "I remember a note about an apparently out of place spherical device."
"Oh, yes," Admiral Johnston said, nodding. "As I recall, you found it near the center of the ship remnant."
"Yes, sir," Richard said, looking relieved.
"What you found," Tekamah said, "is nothing less than the Zoxyth gene weapon."
Johnston's face hardened. "That God damned weapon nearly wiped us out, Admiral. My understanding is that you knew of the technology. Who in the hell would develop such a thing?"
Tekamah held up a hand. "We didn't know the Zoxyth had known about the technology, much less developed a weapon." He paused, his eyes momentarily glazing over. Then he shook his head. "Although, in hindsight, I should've realized it."
He told the officers about the refugee caravan that had fallen to a Zoxyth attack. "In spite of obvious evidence that the Zox had boarded each ship," Tekamah said, "there were no bodies left behind, but there were no signs of resistance, either, not a speck of blood anywhere."
"So enemy troops boarded the ships to remove the evidence," Jake said.
Admiral Tekamah nodded. "My scouts found a couple of piles in a remote section of one ship, but …" The Admiral paused, a series of emotions leaking through his finely coiffed visage. Then his face hardened. "Regardless, we didn't know then, but we do now." He pointed to Jake and Richard. "And thanks to the two of you, we have an opportunity to study one."
Admiral Johnston leaned forward. "That still doesn't answer my question. Why would anyone develop such an obviously genocidal weapon in the first place? Who would pursue such a patently evil thing?"
"Well-intentioned doctors," Tekamah said flatly.
After giving the statement time to spread confusion across the group, he continued. "It started out innocently enough. Even for Argonians, cancer can still raise its ugly head. As you probably know, a malignancy usually begins when a genetic error propagates through uncontrolled duplication. That unchecked growth manifests as a tumor, a clump of flesh with slightly different DNA than the host. Oncologists developed a device that, encoded with the defective gene sequence, could target and eradicate cancerous tumors. It would only affect tissue with the faulty gene sequence. It shifted the targeted tissue into a quantum state incompatible with organic molecules, leaving nothing but an empty pocket where the tumor had been."
"Oh my God," Sandy whispered.
Richard looked at her. "What?"
"Don't you get it?" she said. When nobody answered, Sandy gave the admiral a questioning look.
Still seated behind his desk, Tekamah nodded and held out a hand. "Please."
She looked around the room and then said, "Someone must've figured out a way to boost the signal and focus it on a species' genome."
Jake realized that she had to be right. The epiphany hit him hard. In spite of evidence to the contrary, he'd held a faint hope that they'd find out that the enemy had somehow beamed the humans elsewhere. Looking around the room, he saw the same realization hit each of the gathered officers.
Admiral Johnston sat back in his chair. Shaking his head, he repeated Sandy's words. "Oh my God."
"Yes," Admiral Tekamah said, nodding as he watched the group digest the information. "The weaponized version was never built. As soon as its potential weaponization surfaced, the technology's very existence became a closely guarded secret. Fortunately, the oncologist in question was a government scientist. She had yet to publish her findings and never did."
"Jesus Christ!" General Pearson said. "What in the hell are we going to do if another one of these shows up?"
"Well, General, now that we know they have the tech, there are tactics we can employ. And now that they have one to study, our scientists can look for its weaknesses."
Jake saw questioning expressions cross Johnston and the general's faces as both men leaned forward in their nanobot-formed chairs.
Tekamah held up a hand again. "One moment, gentlemen. There's more."
Admiral Johnston and General Pearson exchanged glances and then leaned back into their seats. The general nodded to the GDF admiral. "Please continue."
"As I mentioned earlier," Tekamah said, "we had our own … encounter with the Zoxyth weapon. Until reinforcements arrive, I'm extremely short-handed. However, those reinforcements are on the far side of the galaxy." He paused, giving each man a meaningful look. "So I'm leaving you in command of the Galactic Guardian fleet."
The two men looked both excited and concerned. Admiral Johnston sat up in his chair and said, "More than anyone else, I'd love an opportunity to give those sons of bitches a little payback." He paused and pointed at Richard and Sandra. "But, from your earlier comments, I take it First Fighter Wing's exercise in the Jovian system went less than spectacularly. Their experience shows that we're not ready to face the enemy."
Tekamah leaned back in his chair. "Actually, gentlemen, I'm very impressed with your progress to date. That you successfully boarded and recovered the fleet is far more than I would have expected. The fact that you were engaged in training exercises was unfathomable. Had I not used my command codes to deactivate your weapons remotely, you could've fired on my fleet." He gestured to both officers. "Very impressive, gentlemen."
"Thank you, sir," said Admiral Johnston. "But that doesn't come close to the level of competence we'd need to act as an effective fighting force. The complexity of naval surface operations is a challenge for experienced commanders. To do that in three-dimensional space-based operations is a whole new level."
Tekamah grinned. "Then it's a good thing I have a plan."
CHAPTER TWENTY
Recovering from the momentary disorientation induced by the Edification Encoder, Remulkin shook his head. "I hate this shit."
Through a predatory grin, Sergeant Kraiger said, "Only twenty-eight more modules to go."
"I don't know why I need to go through this. I completed all these training modules twenty years ago."
The sergeant pursed his lips, but before he could repeat the reasoning, First Lieutenant Jenkinson walked into the room. She placed a hand on the sergeant's shoulder and gestured at Remulkin. "Load Earth history and language modules as well. Second Lieutenant Thramorus is going to need them." Turning to Remulkin, she said. "You're being reassigned. Somebody else gets to deal with your shit."
"What?" Remulkin said.
"Apparently, someone thinks you'll make a good liaison."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Squalling cries sang out from the flames. The screeching of his boy—no longer a hatchling, not yet a warrior—joined those of his wife. Thrakst fought to move, struggled to run to their aid. However, a bone-chilling cold turned his massive muscles into flaccid mud. In spite of the fire's nearby heat, the frigid environment robbed his cold-blooded body of energy. Thrakst roared. Heaving mightily, he thrust an arm toward the flames. Then his extended talons found purchase on something. He grasped it with withering strength.
"Lord Thrakst, it's me," whispered a gruff voice.
The Lord opened his eyes to see Raja Phascyre standing over him. Green blood oozed from points where Thrakst's talons still dug into the old warrior's upper arm. However, he displayed no pain. The polished rock bolted into his right orbital socket appeared to glare, but only empathy flowed from the Raja's remaining eye.
"They're still with the Forebearers, my Lord," Phascyre whispered.
"I know, old friend," Thrakst said as he released the arm. "I know." Sitting up, he
swung his legs from the stone hearth and stood.
"Now, leave me, Raja."
"Yes, my Lord."
The Raja gave him one last concerned glance and then bowed and departed.
Thrakst walked to his cabin's display wall. At the bottom of the large image, the green world of Zalen hung motionlessly below the Tidor Drof. A planet-girding ring station filled the top half of the image. The ring's geosynchronous altitude and orbital velocity matched the planet's rotation, making it appear that they now hovered unmoving over a particular point on Zalen. Unlike the planet's obvious curvature, the ring station—as old as the Forebearers—appeared to continue left and right as a perfectly straight line to the limits of Thrakst's considerable vision. Scavenged from the system's asteroid belt, millions of stitched-together city-sized rocks formed the bulk of the ring structure. Similar to the ships of his fleet, massive trusses linked each asteroid to the next. Thanks to gravity manipulation, their hollowed-out Zoxaformed interiors provided more living surface than the planet they spanned.
Immediately adjacent to the Tidor Drof's dock, a tower dropped perpendicularly from the bottom of the ring. The long line drawn by the space lift disappeared in the distance as it continued down into Zalen's gravity well. It was impossible to see from this altitude, but Thrakst knew that the bottom of the tower cut through the jungle and anchored into the planet's bedrock.
Zalen and its massive ring station normally fascinated Thrakst. However, today, the Lord barely registered the scene. The image of his fire-engulfed lair kept burning into his mind's eye.
It was all Tekamah's fault. The bastard had taken the Lord's family. Had the Helm Warden not attacked the Forebearer's Solitude just before they had retreated into parallel-space, the dreadnought would have dropped into a normal orbit when it returned to Zoxa, not crashed into the planet's surface.
The mental image of his burning family was just that: an imagined image. There hadn't been a lair left for that fire to consume. The crashing asteroidal ship had left only a crater where his ancestral home had lain. Since the days of the Forebearers, a member of the Thrakst clan had ruled the region. Now only a smoking hole marked its location.
Even after the GDF had taken his family, the Forebearers-damned Zoxa High Council had begged him to accept the Argonians' terms, pleaded with him to end the war.
"The cowards!" growled the Lord.
Before Tekamah had taken his family, Thrakst had started to develop the gene weapon. The doomed Forebearer's Solitude had transported the scientific team he'd assembled to develop the device. The Lord had brought his old friend, Raja Phascyre, into the fold and told him of the new weapon. Initially, the warrior had counseled peace, but after Forebearer's Solitude had plunged into Zoxa, the Raja had joined him, stood by his side as he'd set off to make the GDF pay for what they had done to their home world, to his family.
And praise the Forebearers, the bastards had paid. Armed with a weapon unknown to the worthless hatchlings of the High Council, Thrakst had gathered his fleet and struck out for Argonian space. First, the test on the fleeing Argonian refugees had proven the efficacy of the gene weapon. Then he'd wiped all but one Forebearers-damned Argonian from the Chuvarti system.
Remembering the voice that had stolen his victory, Thrakst growled, a low rumble that caused the room's few loose pebbles to skitter noisily. Because of that survivor's warning, the Lord hadn't finished the GDF in the Chuvarti system, and he still didn't know what had happened in Sector 64.
A chime yanked Thrakst from his thoughts.
"What do you want?" he yelled. Turning toward the noise, he saw the Raja step into the room.
"Sorry, my Lord. We intercepted a GDF communiqué about Sector Sixty-Four. They haven't heard from the Galactic Guardian." With a predatory grin, Phascyre added. "The Helm Warden has been dispatched to investigate."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Fifth Columnist stared at the remote console.
He couldn't send the message.
He had to!
He wouldn't.
But they needed to know about Sector 64!
Bending over its surface, he typed furiously.
A few keystrokes later, he stopped typing and looked down at the screen. The completed message stared back at him, its Send button flashing impatiently.
The Fifth Columnist reached for it and then stopped.
The last time he'd done this, it had only made things worse.
Much worse!
He couldn't betray his own kind.
He wouldn't!
He had to betray them, had to betray himself.
He …! He …
In the dark room, the Fifth Columnist's shoulders slumped.
He shook his head and sighed.
And then pressed the Send key.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The now familiar wave of vertigo washed over Jake as the edification encoder deposited the latest module of knowledge into his mind. He blinked a few times, and his vision stabilized. A quick mental inventory revealed that he now had a working knowledge of the Turtle's upgraded weapons systems. Their abilities astounded Jake. The ship's greater size gave it the capacity to carry weapons even more powerful than those of the Phoenix space fighters. So, as the Commander of 6th Fighter Wing, Jake had taken the liberty of assigning himself to the unit's deadliest ship.
He studied the schematics in his virtual vision. As if floating in midair, the lined three-dimensional rendering rotated in front of him. Using its direct link to Jake's optic nerve, the EON painted the image across his real-world view, creating a hologram that only he could see.
Thanks to the latest download, he fully understood every aspect of each new weapon system. What had previously seemed like an overwhelmingly complex amalgamation of systems now seemed intuitive.
Movement beyond the virtual hologram drew his attention. Through it, Jake saw an unknown male face looking at him impatiently. Using a subvocalized command, he dismissed the schematic. The unobstructed view of the individual only deepened Jake's confusion. Considering his portly physique and receding hairline, the rotund man looked neither military nor Argonian. However, he thought he'd already met all the Earth-based personnel.
Giard gave him a questioning look, but the guy continued his sour vigil without comment. Jake surrendered. "Can I help you?"
"That depends," said the man in an accent that answered one question. He was definitely Argonian. "Are you Lieutenant Colonel Jake Giard?"
"Yes, I am. Who are you?"
The Argonian rolled his eyes. "Gods! The viceroy doesn't know the activities of the exultor!"
The EON fed Jake a quick translation: the right hand doesn't know what the left is doing.
Jake chuckled. "Things are a bit crazy right now. Why don't you tell me who you are and why you're here? Then we'll both know what the other hand is doing."
"Hand?"
Jake raised a questioning eyebrow.
The man rolled his eyes again. "Very well. I am Lieutenant Remulkin Thramorus. I've been assigned as your liaison."
Lieutenant? Jake thought wryly as he cast a dubious glance at the man's generous belly. Apparently noticing it, Thramorus actually sucked in his gut.
"Liaison?" Jake said after a moment. "No one mentioned liaisons."
"Exactly," Remulkin said. "Viceroy … exultant … not communicating. Gods, am I not speaking English?" The man's freckled, pale skin glowed red under his wreath of receding red hair. "Did the idiots download the wrong language module?"
"Don't blow a gasket," Jake said. "We'll figure this out. As a liaison, what are your assigned duties?"
Lieutenant Thramorus shrugged. "They just want me to ride along with your squadron. I am to: clarify issues should our cultural differences create confusion during the heat of battle." He said the last part as if quoting someone else and with more than a little disdain.
Jake didn't care for the man's attitude, but after a brief pause, he smiled and nodded. Extending an arm, he said
, "Glad to have you aboard, Lieutenant."
Remulkin ignored the offered hand. Instead, he waved dismissively. "Just stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours, Colonel."
What an asshole, Jake thought as he lowered his hand. Shaking his head, he returned to the edification encoder's control panel and reactivated the device. A hologram of his brain sprang back into existence between the two men. Looking into the three-dimensional model, Jake said, "Now, if there's nothing else, I have a few more modules to download." Sparing the asshole a quick glance, he added, "I trust they've assigned you quarters."
Remulkin gestured to his right. "Yes, they put me in the cabin next to yours."
"Wonderful," Jake said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.
He heard a rustling behind him as Sandy came out of their bedroom. In a sleepy voice, she asked, "Who's this?"
Still standing in front of Jake, Remulkin suddenly became animated. As Sandy stopped next to Giard, the portly man's face brightened. Extending a hand, he said, "I'm Lieutenant Remulkin Thramorus of the Galactic Defense Forces. Pleased to meet you, young lady."
"Lieutenant?" Sandy said as she shook the man's proffered hand.
"Uh, yes," Remulkin said. Jake saw his face redden again. "Recent … uh … developments required my return to active duty."
As the man released Sandy's hand, Jake saw him glance down. Did he just look at Sandy's breasts?
"What were you doing before those developments?" Sandy asked, either not seeing or ignoring the man's gawking.
"I'm a scientist. I was working at a polar research station when …" The man paused, his smile faltering. His eyes clouded over, and he looked away. After a moment, Thramorus shook his head. "Anyway, my assignment there ended, and I found myself aboard one of the ships of the Helm Warden's fleet. When they found out about my previous military experience, they …" The man's words trailed off, his gaze falling to the floor. Finally, he shook his head and looked up, glaring at Jake. "So here I am, stuck in a backwoods system and assigned as a liaison." Remulkin shifted his gaze to Sandra. His face softened as apparent embarrassment replaced his anger. Again he stared at her chest. Or was it even lower than that?
