Dawn of the Mad

by Brandon Huckabay

  “Gentlemen, sit down.” Each of them took a comfortable chair in front of the desk. “I speak on behalf of Marshal Von Jesonik. He is very pleased at the success of your mission.”

  The colonel nodded, secretly relieved. The marshal wasn’t in league with the Auger-Lords. His gaze stuck on a strange piece of ancient art behind the desk, depicting a crucified woman being burned alive by a large mob.

  The admiral turned to the data terminal on his desk and activated it. “The marshal has sent your next orders via secure transmission. I will play it for you. I will make sure you get a hot meal and that your equipment is loaded on your shuttle.” The captain opened his mouth to speak, but instead the admiral started playing the transmission, cutting him off. Projecting from the terminal was a holographic image of Von Jesonik sitting behind his oak desk.

  “Greetings, Johann. Your mission is going well. Time is now critical. Admiral Raus has informed me that the escaping shuttle is being tracked, and he has locked onto its pulse signature. The next phase of the mission will have you pursue the shuttle and bring back its crew and whatever was taken from the facility. We must have it. Assemble your team. The admiral will brief you on the rest.”

  The hologram disappeared. The colonel appeared to be deep in thought but made no comment. Cruwell, however, was about to burst at the seams.

  “Pursue where, exactly? Further into fringe space?” Cruwell addressed Raus directly, rising out of his chair. The colonel reached over and pulled him back into his seat.

  “It is not your place to question, Sebastian, only to follow orders,” The Colonel said unperturbed. “Please continue, Admiral.”

  Raus seemed unfazed by the captain’s outburst as well. He continued, “You will select a squad of your best men. You will track the shuttle and recover the weapon. If it is human or an alien, you should capture it alive. If you end up on an inhabited planet, it is important that you remain undetected; however, you need to assess the planet’s defenses in case we are running into another enemy-held planet. As such you will leave the shuttle in orbit behind a chameleon field and utilize the transmit disks. Your ship is ready. We didn’t have time to test the pulse drive, but the Auger-Seers onboard confirmed that it will work. Once the escaping shuttle comes out of the pulse beam, the Auger-Lords should be able to pinpoint a destination point; however, our technicians have discovered that the signatures deteriorate rapidly. You must get ready to depart immediately, or the pulse drive will be useless.”

  Admiral Raus leaned closer and whispered, “The Auger-Lords are excited. I have never see so much chattering around that globe of theirs. I fear that if you fail, we are all done for.”

  “Understood,” the colonel replied. His heart sank. This new mission was fully supported by the Auger-Lords. What was their involvement? “Admiral, this shuttle has a pulse drive, a chameleon field generator, and we are to use transmit disks? I am quite frankly unsure we will survive. Pulse drives and chameleon field generators were prone to overheating and destroying entire starships. They haven’t been used in years. Don’t even get me started on those transmit disks.” The colonel’s confidence in the mission seemed to disappear in a split second.

  “Your concerns are duly noted, colonel. However, I have been assured that you have nothing to fear. Just focus on your mission. The technology is sound,” the admiral said reassuringly.

  “Very well. Is there anything else you can tell us about our mission, Admiral? I hate going into situations blind, especially when ancient technology is involved, going to an unknown destination.” The colonel smiled, looking at Cruwell. The captain knew as well the orders came from the Auger-Lords, and not the marshal. The mere fact they were being given the use of a pulse capable craft and ordered to go into unknown space indicated perhaps the Auger-Lords witnessed some prophetic vision through their sightless eyes.

  “I can tell you that what my technicians have analyzed from what was recovered from the planet’s surface has the home planet extremely eager for your success.”

  The colonel rose out of his seat, pulling Cruwell up with him. “OK. I will pick my team, and we will make ourselves ready as quickly as possible.”

  “I have taken the liberty of informing Sergeant Matthias and Corporal Scotts to begin prepping the shuttle,” Admiral Raus said. “That corporal of your is a pretty resourceful troop, his piloting skills are quite useful. My technicians informed me he checked out on the shuttle with no problem. I could use a good pilot if you want to leave him behind.”

  “I am afraid I need every capable man, admiral,” the colonel said as he looked over at Cruwell. “We will do our best, admiral.”

  The colonel and the captain saluted Admiral Raus, who saluted back. He turned his attention to the data terminal, leaving his two guests to show themselves out. The marines posted at the door escorted them to the hanger bay where their ship awaited them.

  As the men headed toward the hangar bays, Cruwell asked, “Who else are you selecting for the squad?”

  The colonel responded in a steady tone. “The craft is not big enough to hold a complete squad and equipment. I must select most qualified for the mission, of course: myself, Matthias, Scotts, and you, if you wish, even though it appears that you pick and choose which orders to follow.”

  Without breaking stride, Cruwell replied, “Yes, that would be a good team, and I would be honored.” The two exchanged no further conversation as they entered the cavernous hangar bay. The small, stubby shuttle that they were to use was parked amid stacks of equipment and a team of about a dozen technicians. They saw Sergeant Matthias loading small crates inside the shuttle, and Corporal Scotts working on a small piece of equipment. Scotts had a big grin on his face as he studied a pair of circular disks, each with a small box attached to them. Matthias saw the corporal’s grin and punched him hard in the shoulder, nearly knocking him over. Matthias turned in time to see the colonel and Cruwell approaching. He immediately came to attention, as did Scotts, trying to conceal a small grimace on his face from the pain of the sergeant’s punch.

  “At ease,” the colonel told them. “How are the preparations going? Are we almost ready?” The colonel surveyed the busy technicians and rested his gaze on Matthias and Scotts.

  Matthias replied, “Yes sir. We are almost ready. The crew had the shuttle prepped before we arrived, just finishing loading the rest of the gear now. Where we headed?” The colonel strode over to the shuttle, climbed inside for a quick look, and quickly stepped back out.

  “Wherever that escaping shuttle leads us. Those are our orders.” He looked at Scotts, who had resumed his examination of the disks. “Corporal, are you sure think you can fly this antique?”

  Scotts looked up and resumed his grin. “Yes, I can. The controls are not much different from the Class II freighters I used to fly. The pulse drive is easy enough to operate. And you will need me to operate these.” He indicated the disks he had been studying.

  After a brief pause, Cruwell stated impatiently, “Well, go on.”

  “These are trans-matter disks, another holdover of ancient technology, much like our pulse drives. Very little is known about their construction, I uploaded a sim program from the ship’s computer and should be able to operate them with no problem.

  Cruwell interjected, “I have heard of those, but they didn’t work. Men appeared at the destinations as a giant mess, turned inside out and the like.” Scotts set the disks down on the ground and replied, “Yes, I am aware of that history. These, however, are modified with a more stable and constant power source. They were tested just before you arrived and should work. It’s not like we have a choice, right?” The corporal chuckled a bit.

  “How do we get the disk to the destination without flying the shuttle to it?” the colonel asked, his interest piqued. He had heard little about this technology.

  Scotts replied, “First off, the master disk stays in the shuttle, and the other gets projected to the destination on the planet with one lucky volunteer. Once we c
an determine the coordinates where we want to arrive, the master disk will fold space, allowing us to cross over to the destination in a split second, think of it like taking a step over a line. From there, it’s really pretty simple. Once the point man is at the destination, he sets the other disk up to receive the rest of the men. The only drawback is that repeated uses will overheat the unit. It must be used sparingly.”

  “Sparingly,” the colonel repeated. “And what if it overheats?”

  Scotts turned to Cruwell with his ever-present grin, relishing his role as purveyor of knowledge about this extraordinary technology. “You get turned inside out, I imagine, and the unit eventually detonates into a small thermonuclear explosion.” He began to laugh, but Sergeant Matthias intervened and pushed him roughly into the shuttle.

  “Wait a second,” Cruwell said seriously. “Why do we need to set up a second disk? Can’t we all just go through the master disk together?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t try it,” said Scotts. “And the problem is that you won’t be able to get back. You will be stuck at the destination point.”

  In a dark corner of the hangar bay, a robed Auger-Seer observed the colonel and his men. His observations were quickly converted into thoughts and read by Lord Sabis, who was connected to the consciousness. The master’s wishes were, so far, being carried out. The escaping shuttle was a nuisance, but he had it under control. Now it was only a matter of time.

  Hours later, after the promised hot meal, the colonel’s select team was under way. “Preparing to engage pulse drive,” Scotts said, looking at a computer monitor, which showed The Emperor’s Fist shrinking rapidly in the distance. The shuttle accelerated quickly. Scotts checked and rechecked the core power indicator. According to the computer, the pulsar core was almost at full power, at which it could make the jump. The navigational computer had received the destination coordinates from the flagship’s computer just moments before.

  Scotts looked over his shoulder at the crowded crew compartment. Much of the cargo was in the crew area because the containment core for the pulse drive took up much of the cargo bay. Most heavy equipment had been removed just prior to departure. The team had only what the colonel expected would be needed. The retrofitted shuttle hummed throughout with the power of harnessed pulsar star particles becoming agitated within the core. The colonel, Matthias, and Cruwell were strapped into their seats, weapons and crates packed in around them.

  A voice came back from The Emperor’s Fist. “Engagement of pulse drive acknowledged. Good luck.”

  Scotts switched off the communications link and activated the pulse drive, praying that the craft didn’t disintegrate right then and there. The Emperor’s Fist and the surrounding stars blurred behind them as the drive kicked in. An electromagnetic beam fired from the shuttles core, and exited the ship through its external exhaust port. Deep hues of purple and red enveloped the ship as the incredible force of the beam jolted the men into the backs of their seats. The blocks of color turned into thousands of perfect lines projected in front of the shuttle. A monitor began beeping loudly as it displayed characters written in an ancient script. Scotts looked at the display but could not read it; he knew how to run the drive but not all of its details. He had no need to know, and there had been no time for him to learn. He was powerless to affect operation of the drive: either it would work, or it wouldn’t. He had been briefed that such a display would occur once the shuttle locked onto the destination, and seeing it provided some comfort to him.

  CHAPTER 10

  When the stubby shuttle’s pulse engines disengaged, Corporal Scotts immediately began the process of tracking the fleeing craft. Its pulse signature led to a blue planet, the third one out from the single sun in the system. Images of the planet that showed on the corporal’s monitors indicated that it was fertile and lush in flora, and largely covered with water. The planet also appeared to be heavily populated, with what appeared to be cities dotting the landscape, giving off heat signatures characteristic of urban areas.

  The renegade shuttle’s pulse signature faded as the ship penetrated the planet’s atmosphere, but Scotts was able to track it to the planet’s surface. He turned away from the computer terminal, faced the colonel, and said, “Sensor sweep is completed. The computer has identified the location, but with a margin of error.”

  “What is the margin of error?” the colonel asked as he unbuckled himself from his seat.

  “The margin should be small, but it depends on how far we are behind the ship. The sim program indicated that tracking a pulse beam produces a time distortion effect.”

  “Just spit it out, kid,” Sergeant Matthias interrupted, standing up from his seat.

  “That shuttle might have an hour head start, or a few days. It’s hard to tell.”

  “No matter,” the colonel said. “The data is the best we can get; we’ll have to work with it. Get the trans-mat device operational, and we’ll set up a base once we pinpoint the craft’s planet fall. Matthias will go first.

  Leaving the shuttle on automatic controls, Scotts retrieved the two large, black ovoid disks of the trans-mat device from the cargo hold. He set the larger of the two disks in the middle of the steel-grated floor of the hold. He took the smaller one back to the pilot’s seat and detached a small handheld computer from its side. He began to punch buttons on it in sequence.

  “All set,” he indicated a few minutes later.

  He set the smaller disk on a shelf next to his seat and keyed a sequence of commands into the ship’s computer. The large disk on the floor began to rotate and whine. The top surface of the disk opened outward, spreading like a flower’s petals. A brilliant column of purplish light shot from the disk. The light column began to rotate slowly and took a funnel shape. Corporal Scotts replaced the handheld computer on the side of the smaller disk.

  “Just step into the funnel,” he instructed Matthias. He handed him the smaller disk. “As soon as you arrive, you must set up this disk before the master unit overheats. Activate this switch,” he said, indicating a small switch within a black box on the side of the disk. “I’ve already programmed it; just turn it on.”

  “I’ll see you on the ground,” Sergeant Matthias said nervously. As he eyed the column of light, beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He stepped into the funnel of light and immediately vanished. The funnel increased its speed of rotation, and the high-pitched whine from the disk became louder. Scotts watched a monitor for a few seconds, before seeing the uplink message indicating that the slave disk had been activated. “Next man up!” he shouted, to be heard above the whine of the disk.

  Cruwell stepped into the swirling light and vanished. “You’re next,” Scotts yelled to the colonel. “The unit has to cool down, or the shuttle will blow!”

  “Roger that! Meet us on the surface as soon as the unit is ready!”

  Scotts nodded. The rotating disk and funnel of light now generated a strong breeze inside the shuttle, lifting smaller unsecured objects into the air and spinning them in the air above the disk. The colonel turned and stepped into the funnel of light. Scotts waited a few seconds after the colonel disappeared before disabling the trans-mat device. The disk quickly powered down to a barely audible hum. As its rotation slowed, the wind decreased, and airborne objects crashed to the steel-grated floor. The disk ceased rotating in less than 30 seconds, and Scotts could see a fine trail of smoke emanating from underneath it. He ran a quick diagnostic on the disk and was pleased to see no problems.

  “They should be safe,” Scotts said quietly. “I can only hope.”

  CHAPTER 11

  “Follow the preset coordinates,” Dr. Keitel told the shuttle pilot. He watched the pilot’s movements as he stood behind the man’s seat. “When we reach our destination, I will send an encrypted communication back to command. It is too risky right now.” The pilot nodded and continued to adjust the controls on his computer terminal. Stars appeared as continuous streams of multicolored light as the shuttle traveled throug
h pulse space. Dr. Keitel turned around and walked toward his own seat. He had no desire to send any communication to anyone just yet, but the pilot didn’t need to know that.

  The doctor gasped as he saw his experiment sitting straight up in his seat, blinking his black eyes rapidly. “What am I?” The figure spoke with difficulty, the words escaping slowly past his pale lips. The figure looked at his hands, which were devoid of fingernails, and began to slowly clench and unclench his fists. Dr. Keitel sat down slowly, confident his experiment wouldn’t unlock the seat restraints. He spoke softly, as a mother would speak to a child.

  “You are my creation.”

  The figure looked Dr. Keitel directly in the eyes. “I remember that I was like you before, but I died.” He began to access his fragmented memory. Scenes from his past slowly filtered in and out, but it was a difficult process. His past was filled with pain; that much he could make out.

  “You were once a soldier.” Dr. Keitel paused, considering if he should say more. He continued, “You were killed in battle.”

  “Yes. I think I remember. War. I remember war.”

  Dr. Keitel put his hand on the figure’s arm. “You are my son now. When you have recovered fully, we will return home and bring about a glorious end to the war. Peace will finally be achieved.”

  Dr. Keitel suddenly screamed out in pain and rose to his feet as his pale, black-eyed experiment grabbed his hand and squeezed hard.

  The pilot turned around. One of them commanded harshly, “We are exiting pulse space. Sit down!”

  Dr. Keitel continued to scream in pain until the figure released its grip. His creation spoke angrily, “There will be no peace, only war.” He grabbed Dr. Keitel’s forearm and pulled him closer. He could sense the fear inside the doctor. He could smell the flesh.