The fight goes on. Everyone who isn’t cutting into the central data port is burning through ammunition, blasting at the wave of small bots. These ones aren’t cloaked, but even so, a haze of detection dust lingers in the air just in case something tries to sneak up on us. I’m on my last cartridge when we start losing ground.
Our reinforcements arrive, and if these machines had a pulse I might feel bad for them. A hail of white hot rounds cuts through the moving mass of small, deadly machines as fresh marines fan out into the open space from the starboard hall.
“We’re through!” announces the cutting crew.
Remmy hurriedly plugs in and begins uploading. “The Holocaust Virus fix is installing. Here’s hoping it works.”
“Tell me as soon as you see a command screen,” I tell him.
“It’s up,” Remmy says seconds later, moving aside.
I hand my rifle to a nearby marine who was caught in the EMP. Turning my attention to the main terminal’s command interface, I jack my command and control unit in. The Sunspire recognises me as a commander with command codes. “Disarm internal defences,” I order as I enter the instructions manually using my comm unit just in case the voice command doesn’t take.
“Command authority recognised. Standing down, Commander Patterson,” says the computer in a pleasant female voice. I recognise that voice immediately. It’s Alice, as she was when Captain Jonas Valent first took command of the Sunspire during her short turn as a shadow ship. Her code was also the basis for the Holocaust Virus, the program responsible for turning the Sunspire into an automated killing machine. The question is, which version of Alice am I speaking to? The helpful artificial intelligence that accompanied Captain Jonas Valent? Or a blood thirsty virus hell-bent on cleansing the galaxy of all humans not allied with the Order of Eden?
I glance at the rest of the large room, where marines are still battling wave after wave of crawler droids. “It doesn’t look like they’re reverting to repair and maintenance mode, Remmy,” I tell him, moving aside.
“It should have worked! They shouldn’t want to rip our faces off by now,” he complains as he takes a look through his own portable control pad. “They should have reverted to the friendly little-” he stops for a moment, his eyes widening. “What the...”
“What is it?”
“It’s an emulator,” Remmy says. “The Sunspire tricked the antivirus into thinking it cleared the Holocaust Virus out of the computer by letting it cure a fake operating system.”
“How long will it take you to go around it?” I ask, drawing my sidearm.
He shakes his head. “It’s not gonna happen. I can only see one part of the real Sunspire’s computing system, and it’s locked behind serious firewalls.”
“How serious?”
“Do you have a century or two?” he replies.
“All right, then we resort to secondary measures,” I say.
“What? But that would-” one of the technicians objects.
Before he can finish his sentence I silence his communicator. “Don’t you dare tip this machine off,” I warn. I select the software package Special Projects developed just in case an incursion unit ever tried to retake an infected ship, and enter my initiation code. It only takes half a second for it to upload to the Sunspire. I yank my comm unit free of the cable connecting me to the panel. “This is happening. I don’t care how bad you techs want to study the Sunspire. I don’t think this thing will do tricks once it’s in your glass jar anyway.”
The emulator interface freezes then disappears. Lighting flickers overhead for a few seconds before going out.
“So much for getting a copy of the AI before the ship’s computer dies,” mutters Remmy.
“Just make sure there’s nothing left,” I tell him over my shoulder as I begin firing at the nearest silver-skinned crawler. “While the rest of us do the heavy lifting.”
“We’re setting our platoon’s EMP up,” warns Lieutenant Davi. “This section should be clear of crawlers and anything else that’s looking to rip us up in a few seconds.”
“Give us ten seconds to get under Faraday sheets.”
I blast a crawler right off a marine’s back and shoot it six more times before I hear the lieutenant say, “Now’s a good time, get under cover. Fifteen seconds.”
My people learned their lesson. They all make it under the Faraday sheets in time and none are caught in the massive electromagnetic pulse that disables most of the crawlers.
The marines do a sweep of the room and set up to guard the five hallways leading into the transit centre. “Congratulations, Commander,” says Lieutenant Davi as he crosses the space between us, offering his hand. He’s a short man, heavily muscled. It looks like he spends every off hour in the gym. I’m sure he and Mary will get along fine when she’s back on her feet. That is, if they let our units work together in the future.
“Thank you. Still a lot of work to do. There’s no way of knowing how many more of these,” I kick a limp crawler, “are lurking around. That EMP only covered about three quarters of a klick.”
“At least you got the Sunspire AI under control,” replies Davi.
“That plan failed. We had to force a core wipe. It’s going to take weeks, maybe months, to set an operating system running to spec. Until then, she’s a hulk,” I tell him.
“The captain is going to be pissed,” Lieutenant Davi says.
“He and the admiralty can line up and kiss my ass. They wanted the Sunspire, we got her for them. As far as I’m concerned, this was a success, and I’m putting you on record for saving our butts.”
“I’m not finished yet, Sir,” Davi says with a smile that almost stretched the bounds of his vacsuit hood. “We still have to sweep a few klicks of corridors and get some of the critical rooms open.”
“Let’s hit the armoury first,” I say. “I have some marines who were too slow to get under cover during our first EMP.”
Chapter 10 - Cleanup
The orders come down when we’re just setting out for the armoury: “Set up camp around the data port. The Amazon is sending the primary force in to complete the capture.”
It doesn’t take long to fortify our position. A fine cloud of orange dust is sent into the air. It remains aloft almost magically, or it would seem that was if I didn’t know that the cloak detection dust wasn’t actually billions of nanobots all programmed to find and adhere to objects using known sensor obscuring technology.
I take a fresh look at the large circular chamber we’re setting up in and make a decision. “Lieutenant Davi,” I say. “Get your people to start looking for bulkhead doors. I want to seal all but the port side halls off.”
“Yes, Sir,” Davi replies. “And call me Malcolm”
“Call me Clark once we’re off duty.”
“I’m going to reconnect with the data port and make sure there’s nothing going on in the Sunspire’s systems. Anything smart enough to try to trick me with an emulator might have a cold backup somewhere ready to activate if she ever gets wiped.”
“Good idea,” I tell him.
It takes Lieutenant Davi’s team the better part of twenty minutes to find the bulkhead doors for the adjacent hallways. The Sunspire is so streamlined internally that, I can’t see them even when his people are cutting into the control wiring. We’re coming up on the half hour mark when they finally start closing doors and welding them shut.
With the doors closed it seems like we suddenly have too many marines for the one entrance we’re covering. “Always better to have more guests at a party than not enough,” I say to myself.
“I hear that,” says a marine behind me. “Still hope it’s a bore, though.”
“So, what’s this primary force they’re bringing in?” Isabel asks quietly.
“About twenty eight hundred marines and techs,” I spare a glance at Mary’s stasis bag. I wish she were here to see how we’re taking control.
“Why didn’t they do that in the first place?” she a
sks.
“The marines they’re sending in are regulars,” answers Lieutenant Davi. “We’re the traitors and glorified inmates, disposable.”
“We’re the scum of the fleet,” Remmy adds wryly. “By the way, our wounded have been marked by a Combat Medic team from Special Projects.”
I check the tactical status screen on my heads-up display and only see that our wounded are marked for medical attention or retrieval. “I don’t even see Special Projects on my status system.”
“Oh, right. I’m doing some creative eavesdropping.” Remmy spends another moment checking a few details and nods to himself. “The Special Projects Intelligence Unit have been watching closely ever since we wiped the Sunspire’s core. They’re already uploading code and have new tech with the med teams.”
“Where do I get a Comms Tech like that?” asks Lieutenant Davi. “I’m looking for a replacement.”
“Oh, watch what you wish for,” Isabel cracks.
“You’ll have to ask Doctor Anderson, he put my team together,” I reply.
“Anyway,” Remmy interrupts. “They say they’re on their way here.”
“Ahead of the main body of reinforcements?”
“Now,” Remmy smiles. “They’re Special.”
“I take it back,” Lieutenant Davi groans. “I don’t think I want a Remmy if he comes with that sense of humor.”
“Are you sure?” Isabel asks. “You can have this one.”
We hold our vigil for two hours as the tactical window on my heads-up display tracks firefights across the ship. The main force of marines encounter whatever we managed to avoid while capturing a central data node. Our anti-cloaking mist picks up a group of over fifty crawlers as they’re flushed our way.
They meet a wall of orange detection dust, it looks like they’re being smothered by a living smog. The marines fire, and for the first time since we boarded, we have an easy upper hand. The area is clear in minutes, and I don’t see the need to waste my ammunition.
Two marines from my team send more detection dust into the air, tossing dispersal grenades into the open that go off with a loud thump and a puff of scattering smoke. Before the entire area has coverage, four fresh squads of marines arrive escorting a medical team in dark blue and white armoured vacsuits. They don’t look like the average medical team.
None of them have visible comm units, and they don’t wait for us to direct them to our wounded or report on their condition. Everyone near the stasis bags are pressed aside, myself included. They get right to work. From the rear of the group come a trio of medics drawing medical devices that look like caskets. Mary and our other injured are placed inside.
“Commander McPatrick,” says a Marine who steps in front of me. I was so intent on watching what the medics were doing I that I don’t notice him until he’s right in my face. My heads-up display identifies him as Commander Sarlin. “I salute the work you’ve done and the sacrifices your people have made here,” he prefaces with an actual salute, something that is reserved for ceremonies and disciplinary panels in the Freeground Fleet.
I return the gesture, snapping a stiff salute in return. “Thank you, Commander.”
“You and your men are to stand down,” he says. “I am taking command of this post. Your new orders will be uploaded shortly.”
“We do the heavy lifting and then reinforcements take on the cushy job,” Remmy mutters.
I turn towards Lieutenant Davi, who is my direct subordinate for this mission and salute him. He’s surprised by the gesture and salutes back after a moment’s hesitation. I make light of my replacement’s gesture and compliment Davi at the same time; “Thank you for saving our asses back there! That was a hot mess and you put it out!” A quote from some movie I heard once, and it cracks most of the unit up. “You and your team are relieved.”
“Thank you, Sir!” he barks back, and I suddenly feel like I’m back in boot camp.
I’m grateful for the momentary distraction. This removal from command really is a slap in the face, and if I were concerned about my career I wouldn’t be slightly irritated, I’d be down right livid. I’m also waiting to see what this new medical technology does to my best friend. Traditional treatment and recovery would take months for someone with Mary’s injuries, but I can only guess that these caskets are here because they’re supposed to do the same job in much less time.
My people are pressed aside as new technicians take possession of the data node and no less than a couple hundred marines move in to secure the area. Specialists begin cutting into the walls, looking for more manual control mechanisms I suppose. Others begin work on the tram system and unsealing the doors. I understand the rush to get the Sunspire back on her feet, but this is happening faster than even I expected. Faster than I’d advise.
I get a notification telling me that my new orders are in, and I’m not entirely pleased. HOLD POSITION AND RENDER ASSISTANCE IF IT IS REQUESTED OF YOU.
“Are they starting recovery right now?” Isabel asks, a little uneasy.
“They are,” I answer. “And our orders are to watch.”
“This thing was trying to kill us less than an hour ago,” she says. “Isn’t it a bit soon?”
“Other than a few crawlers, it’s totally safe,” Remmy says. “The computer core memory was totally wiped along with every other connected computing device aboard. I didn’t see anything running last I checked.”
“And anything we find that can hold an artificial intelligence is being destroyed on discovery,” adds Commander Sarlin. For the first time I realize how closely he’s watching me and my friends. “Don’t worry, we’re in complete control.”
“Gee,” Remmy says with a pondering expression, “whenever I hear that in dramas everything goes to hell in the next act.”
Commander Sarlin offers us a stiff smile and moves on to supervise something else.
At long last, the box they stuffed every part of Mary into opens. To the astonishment of everyone around she sits up and steps out. Anyone who knows what her condition was before is amazed at how there isn’t a scratch on her. The rest are more than a little surprised to have a nude woman in their midst.
“Really?” She says irritably to one of the medics. “You guys build a miracle box and don’t have the sense of mind to add a smock dispenser or something?”
“Wow,” Remmy says, starting to clap. “Too bad she plays for the other team.”
I can count the number of times I’ve seen Mary embarrassed on one hand, it doesn’t happen easily. She covers herself as most of Beta and Alpha teams applaud. The other two injured marines step out of their pods too, in perfect condition as far as we can tell.
One of the medical team presents her with an armoured vacsuit and she yanks it form him. “If I knew a couple hundred people would be getting a free show I would have done some trimming.”
They’re given new armoured vacsuits, but not before Mary causes a riot of laughter by taking a deep bow. I’m blocked off from her by marines and medics. When she’s dressed and finally allowed to walk over to us she flashes me a great big smile. Pats on the shoulders and welcomes sound from the marines she led aboard.
“I thought I was done for a minute there,” Mary whispers. “Thank you, Clark.”
I nod. “You’re kidding right? I’m not going into exile without you watching my back.”
“Likewise,” she replies. “What’s the status on the Sunspire?”
“They’re just doing a sweep and clear. I think we’re about to be demoted to ornamental status.”
“Not even,” Remmy interjects. “When the report on this action is read into the public record back home, it’ll be the marine units from the Amazon that get credit.”
That subdues the lot of us for several minutes. “A good soldier doesn’t sign up for the glory,” Mary says. “But not getting credit when we lost so many taking the ship is an insult I’m not going to forget.”
“I hear you,” agrees Lieutenant Davi. “My comms office
r and incursion specialist were killed in the first three minutes of action. They should have their names etched on the Founder Chamber wall.”
“I never thought I’d say this,” Mary prefaces. “But I think I’m done with this outfit. Give me my dishonourable discharge and drop me someplace where I can get mercenary work.” There’s real ire in her tone.
On the heels of her comment I feel a calm fall over me, as if someone just dosed me with some kind of calmative. Mary looks at me and the only words I can offer her are; “I don’t know.”
“I hope that’s the conditioning talking,” she says. “And I hope you get over it soon.”
Within hours the marines of Beta Team - my team - are assigned to other units. They salute, congratulate and pay respects to me and Mary before leaving, but I can’t help but feel the cold shoulder from command. I’m qualified to be first officer on the Sunspire, so I should at least be allowed to participate in guarding and securing her.
I wait with Mary, Isabel and Remmy. Lieutenant Davi is in the same spot, waiting with his combat engineer, Bida, for orders. They come two hours later, when the ship transit system comes back on line.
Davi and Bida are sent to one section of the guest quarters in the upper berthing and we’re sent to another. If that isn’t insulting enough, Commander Sarlin sees a need to send marine escorts along to make sure we get there. The place has already been swept by a marine scan team, but we do it again ourselves anyway as soon as our escorts leave. The place is clear. It’s a good thing too; we’re locked in.
Chapter 11 - Down Time
I can’t shirk the feeling that I’m back in prison. On the Amazon we weren’t allowed to leave the common quarters, and now that we’re on the Sunspire it’s the same thing, only the section we’re assigned to is smaller. There are six guest quarters and one deck watch bunk in our little section of the ship. The techs made sure everything worked before Mary, Remmy, Isabel and me were locked in.
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