Gheno rushed over to the small hatch that led into the reactor room and pulled out a cable. He dragged it over to the cylinder and nearly fell when the cable came up too short. Kale brought the cylinder in the wrong way and the section where the cables hooked into it was on the far side now and he didn’t have enough cable to reach to it.
Kale realized what he had done and hurried to attach the gravity discs back on to see if he could spin it around. After he cut the cables it took him nearly thirty minutes to get back into the ship. It took him five minutes just to open the bridge doors enough to get the cylinder through. He kicked himself for not doing that before he cut the cables. He had no idea how long the AI could last without power but he didn’t want to risk anything.
Gheno started to shout after him to hurry up and Kale responded equally as loud to be quiet. Ayia slipped past them to the cylinder and looked inside. The sight of the lifeless girl tugged at her memories. Images of past friends, girls, all playing together flooded her mind. She was instantly reminded of her father and her shoulders slumped. It was then that she thought she noticed movement in the cylinder just as Kale bumped into her trying to reach around her.
“Kale, it’s not going to turn, it’s too tight in here. We need to vent and take it out and bring it in again,” Gheno shouted as he dropped the cable and started to run towards the pilot’s cabin.
Just as he ran past the cylinder, a loud hiss filled the room. The clear cover on the cylinder turned from solid to gas and the fog spilled over to the floor. Gheno jumped back up against the couch on the wall in a shriek. Kale, who was on the floor next to the cylinder attaching one of the discs jumped at the sound of the hiss and slammed his head onto the bottom of the table he crawled under. Ayia stared wide-eyed at the cylinder, in disbelief, and began stepping back away from it.
“Damn it Gheno, what did you do?” Kale growled, rubbing his head.
As he stood up he saw the shocked look on Ayia’s face. He turned in confusion and joined in her incredulity when he saw the terrified electric blue eyes of the young girl; she was sitting up in the cylinder. She was covering herself with her arms, visibly shaking. She looked directly at Kale.
“Help,” she whimpered and then she fell back into the cylinder.
Kale paused one moment and looked at his crewmates.
“Oh hell,” he muttered and then rushed to the cylinder.
3124 – Mars. Solar System. Corinthian Consortium of Law.
Alexander Horhoff was a veteran soldier. He joined the Commonwealth Marines at eighteen and excelled. He fought in various conflicts across the known galaxy. He participated in the Border War against the Dominion in 3079. In 3092 he led assault forces on Agronoma against deeply entrenched Dominion forces including genetically modified super soldiers, the first to be used in combat, and won. In the Second Dominion Conquest war, Alexander personally led the boarding of seventeen Dominion ships. This led to the capture of each one of them. After the two great wars against the Dominion were waged, he found combat on several frontier planets against fringe groups and rogue corporations. He fought in deserts, jungles, oceans, arctic forests and the cold vacuum of space. He was highly decorated and had achieved the highest rank an enlisted man could obtain.
The galaxy existed in relative peace since 3104 and Alex quickly found that his greatest skill, leading men into combat, wasn’t in much demand anymore. He tried his hand at being a mercenary but found their general lack of true military skills to be appalling and was generally disgusted with their lack of a code of honor. He tried to return to the military as a trainer but found that his experiences did not transfer well to new recruits without the classroom of a battle field.
He grew distant from his family; his wife left him, unceremoniously. One of Earth’s greatest warriors, a beacon of the wars against the Dominion, had fallen to a new low. He declared bankruptcy and was relegated to marketing bits for useless products he never believed in. Twenty years after he turned the tide of war on the planet of Bhothuna, resisting an attack by nearly seventy thousand Dominion super soldiers with only ten thousand of his own men, Alexander became a historical relic, consigned to books and virtuavids. At the beginning of 3120 he found himself in tears on the floor of his agent’s office. That’s when he got a new lease on life.
One of the lawyers that assisted with his bankruptcy remembered who he was and offered him a job working for one of the largest lawyer orders on Mars, the Corinthian Consortium. He was employed to hunt down a runaway witness in a dramatic trial on Earth, a witness that could bring down one of Earth’s largest corporations. The witness fled for his life to a planet on the frontier. The planet was Lasseus, a hot and humid jungle planet with a carnivorous plant population. He hoped no one would come searching after him. The trial was an extremely profitable endeavor for the Consortium and winning it would have brought them even greater prestige.
Alex took the job, unwillingly at first, but out of a new found sense of justice. It was the witnesses’ duty to testify and Alex would make sure he did. Acting alone was something different to the formal marine but he quickly realized that he worked better that way. He found the witness, saved his life, and brought him back to Earth for the trial, earning the Consortium a win and their gratitude. That mission also earned him a new job as bounty hunter for the lawyers.
Alex settled into his new life easily, a life of military regimen, but a regimen of his own creation. He was given his own ship and a nearly bottomless source of funds for his missions. He gained new respect from a novel group of people and routinely sub-contracted for other firms. Throughout this period of time he always maintained his loyalty to the Consortium. He was able to afford the best in genetic rebuilding and kept himself young and in perfect military shape. He could expect to live two hundred years or more if he could afford it.
He took on many missions for the lawyers. Most just involved retrieving either witnesses too afraid to testify or criminals who needed to be returned to face their trials. On occasion, more unique missions would come his way: stealing a DNA sample from a Dominion superhuman or planting a viral AI in a rival firm. There had even been a few times when he was asked to kill someone, as well, a deed that troubled him at first. It distressed him but not because he was afraid of killing, his record reflected his willingness to execute adversaries, but because to him death happened on the battlefield between soldiers. However, he convinced himself each time that it was for the greater good, it was someone who deserved it.
He was especially shocked when he got his newest mission from the Consortium. He was to assassinate Ayia Agusto.
As with every mission, he received a thorough and detailed file. If there wasn’t enough information in it he had full access to the Consortium archives and databanks. For three days he reviewed everything he could about the young lady. He took notes on her education, her upbringing, her athletic abilities, mental tests and scores. He read in great detail about the attacks on Mondla and her father’s death as well as the potentially fantastic fortune she inherited. The irony was that the girl had actually hired Consortium lawyers to process the paperwork for her inheritance and now they wanted her dead.
It was also the first time that they offered no specific reason for wanting her eliminated. Alex contacted a few of the firm’s executives to inquire why the order was placed to eliminate this woman. The extent of their reason was that if she inherited her father’s fortune there was a potential secret that could be revealed in the process that would bear on the Consortium and discredit them greatly. In the public’s eye, they needed to continue working on her case but if she were to die the case would cease as well. They weren’t interested in her money, the Consortium had far more power and wealth than the inheritance. Whatever the secret was it was important enough to have a seemingly innocent person killed.
He studied the man she had last been seen with, Kale Urt.3xc, a man that continued to carry his own slave designation. He did an extensive background check on Kale, plott
ing the course of his ship for the past six years. His research on the Midnight Oil eventually led to Alioth and a scientist located there, a researcher named Oganno.
That is where he would begin his search.
3124 - Coran, Prime, Dominion Palace, Intelligence Quarters
Fangix stood in the elevator as it descended the three hundred stories deep into the belly of the Dominion Intelligence Quarters, the home and base of all Dominion spies. The main complex at the surface consisted of a simple building. It had a small tower and was located just south of the main palace, adjacent to the Dominion Navy HQ. The series of buildings on the surface were where most of the administrative operations took place; a visual symbol and reminder to the population that the Dominion had full control of their society.
But the real workhorse of the Dominion spy network was deep underground. A vast collection of data archives were stored there, connected directly to the network inside and outside of the Dominion. This was the training ground for Dominion spies and, unbeknownst to most people, the breeding and research grounds for the Dominion super human projects.
Fangix was a product of that research and one of hundreds of thousands of experiments into further expanding the human body and mind. In the eyes of the Noble families of Cora he was one of the many failures. The noble families of the Dominion were running experiments into human genetic manipulation and, if rumor held true, the melding of other genetics into the human genome. They were giant specimens, many towering twelve feet and nearly all of them were geniuses with IQs far beyond measure. They were often compared to the gods of ancient Earth lore and ruled in the same fashion. These genetic wonders were rarities. They were the products of thousands of experiments. The botched results were still far superior to the standard human being and Fangix was of this category. He was the prototypical bastard mutant.
In a crueler society these failed experiments might have been extinguished out of shame but the Dominion could not justify eliminating the defections due to the expensive nature of their creation. Even the worst of them were useful for some purpose. All of them found themselves serving the respective noble family that donated most of their DNA.
Dominion society was run by twenty families. They were genetic descendants from the first twenty families that landed on Coran. Each of the families was led by their most powerful elder, man or woman. The leader’s DNA was used to further enhance the future generations of that family. Their power was measured in wealth. These male and female elders provided for armies, deeds and influence. The same twenty families had existed since the founding of the Dominion, although their power had risen and fallen over the centuries. Currently, three families held the most influence and power: the Afhan, the Yorrida and the Reyfa. These three were also the families that contributed the most DNA to the current Dominar, the supreme human being who had sovereignty over the Dominion.
Fangix contained nearly 90% of Afhan DNA and was a servant of that family. He was nearly sixty two years old by Earth standards but had the human physicality of a thirty year old man. He was just six and a half feet tall, very short by altered standards, but was powerful and had incredibly fast reflexes with great speed. He was one of many Afhan’s in the Dominion spy network dedicated to subterfuge and assassinations outside of the Dominion. At his stature, Fangix could easily pass for a normal human being and routinely was imbedded in Commonwealth planets carrying out the wishes of the Dominar, for the glory of the Afhan.
He had deep set brown eyes and long unkempt hair that matched in color. He preferred to keep his skin covered at all times with his clothes but occasionally he revealed his many tattoos. They could be seen on his heavily tanned skin.
While the Dominion spies reported directly to the Dominar, as did all branches of the Dominion’s military, all of his achievements served to bring glory to his family. His accolades were recognized to such an extent that his DNA was considered to be selected, on a small scale, to better future generations of the Afhan. There was no greater honor in the Dominion than having one’s DNA selected for future generations. It would ensure his immortality in the eyes of the Dominion.
The elevator doors opened and Fangix exited onto the cool platform. Several floating cars awaited and he entered one with two other men. The car floated up and then took off into the dark cavernous space. It was headed towards his unit’s quarters. He just returned from a mission on Elixir, where he spent seven months infiltrating a research center there on the corporate owned planet, only to discover that their genetic program was a fledgling baby compared to the Dominion’s god-machines. It was no great threat. He would debrief his commanders and await a new mission. In most cases, he would have a month of down time and Fangix was already looking forward to enjoying one of the many harems allowed to him by being an Afhan. On the jump back to Coran he spent many hours on the virtuavid with the women he hoped to spend real time with. He was intoxicated with the anticipation.
The large cavern that held the Intelligence Quarters was a natural cavern, enormous in size. It was a cathedral that ran a mile underground. The main elevator that came down from the surface ended at a platform near the top of the cavern. From that surface, floating boxes carried people and supplies to all of the separate units along the walls of the cave. Hundreds of individual compartments were housed here: research and intelligence units, each one completely separated from each other by the chasm. The desire for secrecy was highly valued important, even in such a remote area.
Fangix worked with infiltration units. Most of his missions involved either stealing or eliminating corporate and technological secrets. The Dominion, while arguably the mightiest power in the galaxy at the time, still routinely lagged behind the Commonwealth and corporations in tech research. They also relied heavily on their tech-spying to advance their own research. If stealing the technology wasn’t possible then sabotaging the research was a viable option. For Fangix, that usually meant the eradication of key scientists and researchers by making them disappear. While these types of missions were common, what Fangix enjoyed even more were the hunting of Dominion traitors, those who attempted to defect with precious genetic research. He always enjoyed a good hunt and the satisfaction of plunging a dagger deep into the heart of a traitor fed his patriotic sense. Killing for the Dominar was the ultimate deed.
The floating transport traveled through the darkness of the cavern towards his unit. Dots of light speckled the walls of the cave. They were all the separate houses for other units. At this point, after so many years, Fangix knew exactly where he was going even in pitch darkness. He sat back into one of the chairs and closed his eyes. There was little to no difference between what he could see with his eyes open or closed. He felt for the slowing transport and that slight change in gravity as it landed on the small outcrop. He stood up and, with his eyes still closed, walked out to the ledge, stepping into the cave that led into his own unit’s quarters.
Fangix passed two checkpoints. The first scanned his body for any foreign contaminants, weapons, spying devices and explosives. The second, and far more important barrier, checked his DNA to verify who he was. After placing his hand on the pad, a quick prick drew the blood. Within seconds it was scanned and verified. He nodded at the young man who was running the checkpoint that day. He didn’t recognize him but Fangix was off-world so often in the past years he could be excused for not recognizing him.
Fangix walked down a narrow hallway and into a small office. An older man was sitting at the desk and looked up at him when he walked in. He motioned him to sit on the chair across from him. Fangix sat down and pulled out a disc about the size of his fingernail. He placed it on top of the desk and it lit up. The entire desktop illuminated and data started flowing from the disc onto the screen. The older man continued to write on the tablet he was working on, finished, and then set the tablet down. He gazed at the data stream then peered at Fangix.
“And?” he asked.
“Nothing that can threaten us. Almost a hundred ye
ars behind us and going off in wrong directions. Needless to say, I put a delay in their research,” Fangix responded. He had eliminated the chief scientist.
Fangix’s supervisor seemed uninterested.
“Very well,” he said. With a swiping motion over the top of the desk the data stream stopped, “I’ll have the data techs analyze this.”
He reached over to his tablet and virtually dragged the data from it onto the surface of the desk. Fangix looked down. Usually, this was the moment where his handler let him know how much time off he would have. It was usually a very relaxed atmosphere but Fangix could sense tension in the air. The old man’s brow was furrowed and there was no smile on his face. He was known for his jovial nature, despite the fact that he was a cruel and ruthless handler. The desk was filling up with pictures, data streams, and various other files. Fangix knew a new mission was ready. He held any mention of his disappointment inside.
“Next one?”
The old man took the data projection and, with another swipe of his hand, spun it around so that Fangix could view it.
“This one is important,” the handler pointed at a specific data stream, motioning Fangix to view it, “Tell me what you think that is.”
Fangix opened the stream. It was older code, but the communication was clear.
“It’s a distress signal. Seems pretty standard. What’s this about?”
“Look at the date. The origination date.”
Fangix pulled up the data.
“3087? That’s rather old. This is our spec, all our code. Why are we picking this up now? That’s 37 years old, well within our range, even if it’s in the least populated direction.” Fangix was suddenly struck with curiosity. His expertise was subterfuge, not science.
“Here, now look at this,” the handler opened another file, “Look at the pickup date and location.”
The Emperor's Daughter (Sentinel Series Book 1) Page 17
