Pathogen Protocol (Anghazi Book 2)

by Darren Beyer

  Then the light vanished, and the crew began to recover.

  “Sensors report.” The captain grimaced as he called out across the bridge.

  When there was no response, he sat tall and turned. The sensor officer was simply staring into his display.

  “Sensors, report! What the hell is out there?”

  On the bridge of the Fushun, the captain watched the main screen intently. It depicted three enormous copper-gold arcs, arrayed such that if the arcs were to extend, they’d create a full circle. They represented the destination end of a Casimir bridge, something no one on board had even known existed just a few short months ago. Beside the main screen, the tactical display showed the combined Eastern Bloc and Pan Asian fleets, arrayed to intercept the Coalition fleet as it passed through the bridge to return to the Sol system.

  The metal arcs began to glow with a blue light. “Sensors, report.”

  “I am detecting neutrino emissions consistent with wormhole formation of an inbound jump.” The sensor operator’s voice rose with excitement.

  The space between the arcs flashed with a disc of blue-white light.

  “Sir, neutrino readings are consistent with the jump of a ship in the fifteen- to twenty- thousand-ton range, but sensors are detecting no ships.”

  A number of alarms sounded from the sensor panel.

  “Sir, I have twenty-plus targets showing as debris with collision risk.”

  “Sir,” the communications officer called out, “other ships in the fleet are reporting similar readings.”

  Again, the Casimir bridge flashed, and again no ship materialized. The tactical display lit up, and more alarms sounded, indicating inbound missiles.

  “Sir—”

  “Sensors, give me a report! How many inbounds?”

  “I don’t know. Our system can display a maximum of five hundred.” He turned to the captain, his face ashen. “There are more than that.”

  “Sensors, report! What the hell is out there?”

  The voice of Atlanta’s captain echoed across the bridge. The sensor operator turned, his face blank. “Sir, nothing.”

  “What do you mean, nothing?”

  “There’s nothing out there. No sun, no planets—nothing. We’re not in the solar system.” The captain narrowed his eyes. “Aft video feed to the main screen.”

  The video feed appeared. Against the blackness of space, the three arcs of the Casimir bridge floated alone, glowing blue.

  “Where are we?” the captain asked.

  “Deep space. But I have no idea where.”

  Chapter 54: Eridani System

  Heaves came in waves. As each hit, Mandi willed her stomach to expel its contents, succeeding on perhaps only one of every three. She wondered if the jump sickness bag would hold it all. At least it wasn’t as bad as her bout the last time she’d been aboard the ship.

  A knock sounded on the hatch, and Mandi managed to look up to see Nassir poking his head through.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, pulling himself into the berth.

  “What is it with this ship of yours?” Mandi fought off another wave. “What do you mean?”

  “The damn jump drive—it really sucks.”

  Nassir smirked as he pulled a squeeze tube from a pocket on his jump suit. “This may help.”

  Mandi took it, opened the end, and sucked the contents into her mouth. She grimaced at its bitter taste, but swallowed it down.

  “It’s quite ironic,” Nassir said. “Your mother is also highly susceptible to jump sickness. The very person who discovered the jump drive—and her daughter—get violently ill from its use.”

  “Right now, I don’t care about the irony. I just don’t want to go through another jump with this shitty drive.”

  “Shitty drive.” Nassir chuckled. “This drive is quite possibly the most potent unit in existence—for its size, anyway. I’ve spent years perfecting it. It can jump about forty percent farther than existing drives, and can do so closer to and from planetary masses without destroying the coils. It won’t win any awards in the efficiency category, but then, with my own Anghazi, I’m not too worried about using a little extra hyperium.”

  The bitter goo was already making Mandi feel a little better. Or at least, she managed to take a deep breath without fear of her stomach violently objecting.

  “That’s quite an accomplishment, but my stomach still thinks it’s a shitty drive.”

  “It doesn’t help that we have an extremely unbalanced ship with that capsule still attached—and that was your idea, if you remember. So some of the blame belongs to you.”

  Mandi rolled her eyes.

  “In any case, we’ve completed the patch on the damaged reaction control tanks, and our other ship has joined us here. We’ll transfer some of their fuel and oxidizer, transfer our bomb, then micro-jump closer to Eridani. All we have to do is announce our arrival and deliver our package.”

  “Just like that? They’ll just welcome us in with open arms?”

  “Of course they will. We’re carrying billions worth of hyperium.”

  Mandi raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I’m no sensor expert, but I’m pretty sure they can tell the difference between hyperium and a bomb.”

  Nassir laughed. “Oh, they can certainly tell the difference. But in our case, the hyperium is the bomb.”

  Suddenly Mandi’s mind felt as if every corner of her brain was on fire. Flashes of white filled her vision, and something like the sound of a thousand screeching eagles assailed her ears. Bringing both hands to her head, she added her own screams to the cacophony and lost all sense of time and space.

  In the middle of it all, a shape coalesced—the ouroboros. Only this time, the serpent released its tail, bared its fangs, and prepared to strike.

  Summoning her courage, Mandi yelled with all her strength. “Get out!”

  “Mandi—Mandi!”

  The white flashes subsided, the high-pitched assault faded, and Mandi’s mind began to move neurons and process thoughts. She realized Nassir was next to her, shaking her by the shoulders with his large hands.

  As he saw focus return to her eyes, he let her go. “What happened?”

  Mandi shook her head. “The Anghazi… my God. I’ve never felt anything like that.” She clenched her eyes shut, grimacing. “It flooded my mind with—with something like…”

  “What?”

  “Panic.”

  “Mister Khalid.” OLIVER’s voice echoed from the bridge’s speaker. “Not now, OLIVER.”

  “But Mister Khalid, I have been monitoring Eridani approach channels. I have detected abnormal activity.”

  Nassir stared at Mandi for a second, then said, “Play it back, please.”

  The feed was distorted by static. “Hammer Three One, this is Savage One Actual on unsecure approach frequency—negative response on secure channels. Please respond.” Pause. “Hammer Three Seven, Savage One Actual, do you read?” Another pause. “Any fleet unit, please respond. We have suffered casualties to—I don’t know what. Unable to reach any fleet units. Moving to take spaceport.”

  “Enough,” Nassir said. “OLIVER, please continue monitoring, and record everything.”

  “Of course.”

  “What the hell is happening?” Mandi asked. Her mind was frayed from the Anghazi’s interaction, and she struggled to concentrate.

  Nassir stayed silent, apparently contemplating the possibilities.

  “Nassir.”

  He took a deep breath. “The Coalition ships that stayed on station around Eridani—they are not responding. The troops on the surface are worried and on the move.” He looked deep into her eyes. “You do have a special connection with the Anghazi. She was warning you. It has started.”

  “It?”

  “Whatever Andrews and Hallerson have planned.” Nassir turned toward one of the ship’s control panels. “OLIVER, what is the status of the cargo and consumable transfer?”

  “The cargo transfer is complete. Fuel tra
nsfer is at twenty-three point nine liters, progressing at point three liters per second. Oxidizer transfer is at eighteen point nine liters, progressing at point three liters per second. Estimate completion in approximately eight minutes.”

  “Cancel the consumable transfer immediately. Clear the fluid lines and calculate a micro- jump to the closest possible arrival point to the Eridani space station.”

  “I will do so immediately.”

  “Also, switch over to the new transponder and communications module. We need our new identity.”

  “Micro-jump calculation is complete.”

  Nassir looked surprised at the speed with which OLIVER had performed the complex computation.

  “Transponder and communications module switch is also complete. We are now broadcasting the identity of the interstellar freighter MVV Catarro.”

  “Thank you.” Nassir raised his eyebrows at Mandi in an expression of approval. “And OLIVER, jettison that damn capsule off my ship.”

  Chapter 55: New Reyk S tation, Orbiting Eridani

  The last time Grae had seen the New Reykjavik Space Station, it had been in the final stages of construction. Its central docking core had been filled to capacity with construction vessels and supply ships, and its four massive spokes and spinning outer wheel had been covered in construction robots performing pre-pressurization checks. It looked quite different now—no ships, no bots.

  Erik, seated in the two-seat row across from him, caught him staring out the orbital shuttle’s passenger window. “How does it feel to see perhaps Mikel’s greatest construction under my control?”

  “I thought vanity was a wasted emotion,” Grae said. He twisted to reposition his arms, which were bound by plastic restraints. At least in zero gravity, the weight of his body didn’t add to the discomfort.

  “There is no vanity in this. You know, I had to have every system on board replaced because of Mikel and his damn virus. The station isn’t quite fully operational, but it will be. For a world to flourish, it needs a capable orbital platform. This one will suit me quite nicely.”

  “You won’t hold it,” Grae replied. “I don’t know what you did to the bulk of the Coalition fleet, but I happen to know that they left a capable force behind. They’ll take it from you.”

  A smile spread across Erik’s face—and quickly turned to a sneer. “You will learn to give me my due credit.” He closed his eyes and calmed himself. The smile returned as he opened his eyes again. “You know the Pathogen Protocol—it is what was supposed to have killed you.”

  Grae suppressed a shudder.

  “And it is what took Andrews’s pitiful security detail. It has also taken the majority of personnel aboard every Coalition ship that remained in the Eridani system. Soon, my people will board them and take control. Then I will control the most powerful fleet in existence—in any system.”

  As this thought sank in, Grae turned to his window once more. The shuttle had turned top-on to orient its docking ring with its counterpart on the central core of the station. A small arc of the spinning outer ring slid into sight, and one of the spokes rotated past, granting Grae a view down its length. Somehow, he knew this was the last time he would ever see it.

  A bump indicated contact with the station, and with the darkening of the seatbelt sign, Grae knew docking was complete. Erik’s men floated past Grae to the forward docking hatch. A red light turned amber, then green, indicating the external pressure matched that of the shuttle’s interior, and one of the men peered through a tiny viewport. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he spun the locking wheel, pulled the hatch inward, and stowed it in place.

  Erik released his harness, floated to Grae, and hovered over him for a few seconds. Then, wordlessly, he released Grae’s harness, pulled him toward the hatch, and pushed him through into the passenger area of the station’s docking core. At the sight of the muted pine-green plasteel structure, Grae had to smile—just a bit.

  There was no reason for the interior of the station to be green—other than that Jans had wanted it that way, just so he could have a station different than all the rest. A little bit of dye in the source material was all it had taken to give Jans the only green space station in existence.

  Half a dozen station personnel in drab coveralls were waiting for them, floating. Erik addressed them all.

  “As of now, the station is on lockdown,” he called out. “Nothing comes or goes without my approval. We are in a critical phase of our operation; we all must be vigilant.”

  “Sir?” One of the men addressed Erik sheepishly. “We have a freighter on final approach.”

  “Turn it away,” Erik replied dismissively. He pushed himself toward the exit.

  “It has a sizable hyperium cargo.”

  Erik caught himself, paused, and looked back to the man. “Hyperium? So late?”

  “Its crew indicated they had a reaction system malfunction that caused a delay. They are very low on fuel and oxidizer, and may not have enough to maneuver to a holding position. The manifest checks out, and the telemetry confirms reaction tank levels.”

  Erik paused, apparently considering. “Let it dock, and take the cargo, but under no circumstances are any of the crew to get onto this station. Once we have the cargo, get them out of here.”

  He turned to Grae. “Now, you will come with me.”

  Chapter 56: Extended Orbit, Eridani

  In addition to the lingering headache from her interaction with the Anghazi, Mandi was also still dealing with the nausea caused by the micro-jump from the outer system. While the distance traveled was short in comparison to interstellar jumps, the fact that it terminated close to Eridani had magnified its effects on Mandi’s stomach.

  As she approached the hatch to the bridge, it opened, revealing Nassir and a pilot, both floating in their pressure suits, arms clenched awkwardly around their chests. They both braced themselves on the ceiling to turn toward her.

  Her concern grew when she saw their faces. “What’s going on?”

  “We are being denied docking clearance.” Nassir turned back to the forward windows and the bridge’s main screen. “I don’t like this. They must have found something out of—”

  “Catarro, New Reyk station docking control.”

  Nassir waved his hand for the pilot to answer. The pilot darted to the communications panel and fumbled with the controls before finally engaging the mic.

  “Station docking control, Catarro, go ahead.”

  “Catarro, you are cleared for docking at cargo lock Bravo Three, number two behind orbital shuttle exiting passenger dock.”

  The pilot shot Nassir a look of surprise. Nassir returned it with a shrug. “Number two, cleared to dock Bravo Three. Catarro out.” The pilot cut the mic.

  “Well, that is positive.” Nassir looked at Mandi, then at the pilot. “We have so little starboard side reaction fuel, we need to be as efficient as possible.”

  The pilot nodded. “OLIVER,” Nassir said.

  “Yes, Mister Khalid, how may I assist you?”

  “OLIVER, we have been cleared to dock.”

  “Yes, I monitored the communications.”

  Nassir frowned. “Of course. Please follow the instructions given by docking control using minimal fuel and oxidizer.”

  “That task is underway.”

  Nassir floated to the communications panel and engaged the ship’s internal address system. “All crewmembers to the bridge.”

  It wasn’t long before the other crewmembers pulled themselves into the ship’s main core behind Mandi and worked their way toward the bridge. One stopped at a cargo pod and retrieved a black duffel. When she arrived, she pushed it to Nassir.

  Nassir addressed the group. “This will not be easy. But God willing, we will succeed in our mission. Not long ago, we considered the Coalition our enemy—the symbol of all those infected with the disease of greed who prey on the downtrodden. When we first envisioned this mission, it was to deliver a blow like none other in history.”
He took a deep breath and lowered his eyes. “Now, it takes on a much greater purpose. On Iota, a terrible cataclysm swept humanity from the face of the planet. I—” He looked at Mandi, and a sanguine smile graced his mouth. “We now believe something sinister was behind it, and that something similar might be underway here. Our mission is no longer about delivering a blow to the Coalition. Our mission’s success or failure could determine humanity’s future.”

  The faces of the crew were slack with shock at the added gravity of their mission. Nassir’s expression softened. “We have all trained for this. Some of us may not make it back, but we will succeed. Now, we don’t have much time. Double-check your pressure suits. As soon as we board, they might evacuate the docking section to stop us. I don’t want to lose any of you to a faulty seal or loose helmet. Strike swiftly, and take the station personnel by surprise. The hyperium stockpile will be in the secure storage cargo lock at the central core. Once we move our bomb there, we will mount it outside the lock’s door. That door must be down before our device engages, or it will not get full exposure to the hyperium.”

  He unzipped the black duffel and retrieved a white equipment box wrapped a few times over with a black cable.

  “We will place six of these breach charges around the cargo lock door.” He stowed the box back in the duffel. “Once everything is set, make our way back here. Do not dally. Do not stay back to fight. The ship will not wait.”

  A shudder shook the ship as it engaged the docking clamps. Nassir looked toward the crew hatch, then straightened, took a deep breath, and puffed out his chest.

  “Go now. We have little—”

  “Catarro, docking control. We have positive dock. Release your cargo and prepare to cast off.”

  Concerned eyes locked on Nassir, who quickly keyed the comm. “Docking control, this is Catarro. Did you say, ‘cast off’?”