by Robert Boren
“Dammit,” I muttered, still standing in the hallway over the broken bodies of my attackers.
I finished my walk to the transport station, not running into any more bad guys, and grabbed a tin can to the bridge. Nolan, Sondra, and Skip were all wearing their suits as I came in, helmets next to them.
“Saw the video from the hallway, Captain,” Nolan said, turning from his screen as I sat in my chair. “Brutal but effective.”
“We’re like Superman with these suits on,” Skip said.
Sondra rolled her eyes. “We can’t fly.”
“With the fastest speed setting, we might as well be flying,” I said, the adrenaline still coursing through my system.
“Well don’t have too much fun with this, because we’re in trouble,” Sondra said. “All they have to do is take a bunch of hostages.”
I shook my head no. “They tried that in the brig. Butch tagged the bad guys and fed the data to the Variant 4 Nanos in a microsecond. They were killed where they stood, with no hostage casualties.”
Nolan smiled. “Yep, unless there’s some defense developed against these Nanos, taking hostages is obsolete.”
“What happened to him?” Sondra asked.
“Captain, the Tristar is ready to launch,” Nolan said. “Shall I take us out of the worm hole?”
I glanced at him. “Butch, did we ensure that there are no bad actors on the Tristar?”
“Did Klemperer get back to us with the data on the fighters?” I asked.
“They’ve got enough fuel on board, right?” Sondra asked.
“Excellent, exactly what I wanted to hear. Take us out of the jump.”
Skip nodded, looking at Nolan, then dictating commands to his PA. We felt the static charge for a moment, and then we were floating free in space.
“Put them on screen.”
The big screen lit up, an image of the two men showing.
“Captain, are you okay with sending the forty fighters?” Klemperer asked.
“Yes. Are you good with that, Cyrus?”
Cyrus smiled. “I’m on here to thank you. It’ll be nice having our little friends about when we get there.”
“Commander, you aren’t planning on going, are you?”
Klemperer chuckled. “If I thought you’d let me, I’d already be suited up, but no, I’ll be here to command the other fighters on the New Jersey.”
“Good. You may proceed.”
“Thank you, sir,” Cyrus said. Their images disappeared from the screen.
“I hope this isn’t a trap,” Sondra said.
“If it is, whoever laid said trap will be sorry,” Nolan said.
My heart rate quickened. “Son of a bitch. Put them on screen. Who’s on board?”
We saw the image of the oblong-shaped shuttle on the screen.
“Fire.”
The shuttle was bathed in bright light, gone in an instant, floating debris all that was left.
“How many were on that shuttle?” Sondra asked.
Nolan turned to me. “Did you notice that all of these traitors got on the New Jersey on the same day, Captain?”
“Butch told me a little while ago. Same for the folks on that shuttle?”
“Wonder how many more there are?” Skip asked, his brow furrowed. “This is getting tiresome.”
Nolan looked away from his screen. “Tristar and the fighters just jumped away, Captain.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Got the coordinates for our jump to Boroclize?”
“Yes sir,” Nolan said. “Ready, Captain?”
“Proceed.”
Nolan nodded at Skip, and we felt the dizziness as the ship took off.
Sondra walked closer. “Any chance that shuttle could’ve sent a transmission before we nailed them? That would give out our position. We might be close enough to Boroclize now for the Overlords to figure out what we’re up to.”
“Captain, I downloaded the latest news while we were out,” Nolan said. “Want to look at it?”
“Not now, I need to chat with the Chairman. You check it out, and let me know if there’s anything critical.”
Nolan nodded, as I got up to leave the bridge.
I was there in a flash, walking past the fighter pilot, standing next to the door in full suit with helmet. “Glad you’re here. Thanks.”
“It’s a pleasure, sir,” the pilot said as I walked past him.
Vermillion was behind his desk. “I just reviewed video of the action. We’ll have to be very careful with this technology. If it ever gets into the wrong hands, we’d end up in very dark times indeed.”
I sat in a chair facing his desk. “Yes Mr. Chairman, I agree. I assume Drake is under very rigorous security.”
Vermillion eyed me for a moment. “Drake is an AI.”
To be continued, in The Clarke Chronicles Book 3, coming soon.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Robert Boren is a writer from the South Bay section of Southern California. He writes Short Stories, Novels, and Serialized Fiction.
