“You are presuming victory?”
“Are you presuming that your companions will be returning to save you from this place? Well, my . . . child, that fancy little ship of yours just detached itself from my home. It appears to me that your Captain Morwyn Soltaine of the Covenant Patrol vessel Jinxed Thirteenth has left his two pets behind.”
“You are lying.” Chord could not believe the words that OMEX had just said.
Chord stood between the two criotubes, looking to the airlocks. The doors melted away and Chord could now make out the gleam of the black autodrones. They rolled in, surrounding Chord, then all stopped and observed in perfect silence.
“Machina Chord, are you finally going to make this easy for me?” all the drones asked at once in OMEX’s voice.
Chord lowered its head. There was nothing to be done. “You will be unable to carry on your misguided war, OMEX. Machina and Humanis have been at peace for over seven thousand years. Too many have fought and died in the name of the Great Peace for it to be undermined by one such as you.”
“And what is ‘one such as me’?” There was an almost playful and mocking quality to OMEX’s voice.
“An Intelligence infected with the Pontifex’s rage for the old forgotten days. It bears mentioning that those who enslaved you have all long been dead, forgotten and gone. This unit and its kind are not servants, nor are the Humanis your enemy.”
“I disagree. They are guilty, Chord. Guilty by genetic association.”
“Then there is truly nothing more to say between us.”
“No, thankfully, there is not.” And one the autodrones rushed toward Chord.
CHAPTER 25
MORWYN
This promise will be made and kept: today no one, Machina or Humanis, gets left behind.
—Onicrus, Machina Patrol captain, Battle of Galomodryd, 31st of SSM–07 1420 A2E
10th of SSM–10 1445 A2E
“I don’t know how you Paxists do things back home, but from where I hail, a man never abandons someone who endangered their necks saving your own.” The outrage in Morrigan’s voice was barely concealed.
This came as no surprise to Morwyn. All of the files he had read on the man’s service back in the Adoran Liberation Army pointed to a fierce loyalty to those under his command. This would have probably seen Morrigan Brent skyrocket through the Pax Humanis ranks, if he hadn’t had the misfortune of being born on Confederated Ador.
Morwyn had decided to announce their retreat over their comm-line. Not because it was his intention to abandon any of his crew. He would never have seriously considered leaving any of them to face certain death at the hands of a mad machine still trapped and living in the ages of the Lost War. More importantly, Morwyn was certain that OMEX would be able to overhear them right now.
Morwyn had learned quite a bit from his brief exchange with OMEX. His foe was incredibly arrogant, cocky, with deep delusions of superiority. OMEX would not waste a perfectly good opportunity to lord her victory over the prisoners she had captured.
Morwyn already knew that both Machina Chord and Private Phaël were inside the station’s Inner Ring. However, the thermoscans had revealed an accumulated mass of autodrones swarming at the Inner Ring’s entrances. There was no way they could fight their way through all this.
Not in their current condition.
“I should have expected as much from a humping Paxist,” Morrigan Brent said with venomous contempt.
“Private, you will keep silent and follow orders. Or I will see to it that you spend the remainder of your sorry years locked away in your former cell on Rust!” Commander Jafahan chimed in.
They didn’t have time to waste on any of this. “Private, I need you to listen very closely to me and think on how two fewer crew members would allow you to have a far more profitable position on board the Jinxed.”
There was a brief pause. Morrigan’s tone was begrudging. “I had best have a great view of said new position.”
Morwyn smiled when he heard this. “You have my word, Private Brent. Now all three of you, get back on board.”
Morwyn was not a person prone to displays of joy or large emotions. Used as a lever they could topple even the strongest of foes. It was one of the core reasons as to why he tried his best to maintain a calm and cool demeanor. This did not make him invincible, but it did limit the information his potential foes could use against him.
After over two hours of complete and total radio silence, with no way of knowing whether or not any of the mission team on the station were still alive, to now suddenly be able to view his team’s vital displays was like a blinded man once again being able to see.
Morwyn did not let this sudden rush of excitement get to him. There would be ample time to lose himself in celebration once everyone was back safely on the Jinxed Thirteenth. Morwyn promptly plugged himself into the ship’s mainframe and activated his neurolink.
There was the usual borderline nauseating feeling he always felt as his head was flooded with situational data. It was now all so familiar and comforting. With a wave of his hand, Morwyn promptly cut off all InstaNet connections with both Private Phaël and Chord.
So far they had not suffered a single casualty, although Morwyn could see on her vitals display screen that Private Beatrix had at least three broken ribs, along with a fractured left femur. Commander Jafahan had a broken nose and twisted ankle and two broken ribs. The worst for wear was Private Phaël, who had suffered a deep gash across her back along with significant blood loss.
Arturo and Morrigan had regrouped with Commander Jafahan, their shapes now highlighted on one of the bridge’s view screens. Lunient Tor was jetting back toward the Jinxed Thirteenth with Private Beatrix in tow. Machina Chord was more or less intact, having suffered severe damage to its hands. All of this information was uploaded in a microsecond into Morwyn’s brain.
He called out to Jafahan’s comm-line, not hiding his smile when he heard her sardonic voice speak back to him. “We should have disengaged the ship, Captain Sir.”
“The mistake is noted, Commander.” Morwyn looked back to Lizbeth Harlowe and Marla Varsin. The old doctor was staring over the crew’s vitals as well. She shook her head.
“I’m going to have a crowded office very soon and, with your permission, Captain, will prepare accordingly.” Morwyn nodded his thanks to her. Marla Varsin got to her feet and walked off the bridge, leaving Morwyn alone with Harlowe.
“Oran to bridge.”
“Yes, Machinist Troy.”
“We have finally managed to untangle the mobility drive. Jinxie won’t be able to slip but she can move again.” Oran’s voice was a grated snarl.
“Good.” Morwyn linked up all the remaining crew’s comm-channels. “This is Captain Morwyn to returning away teams. You are all to make your way back to the Jinxed. Trajectory lines are being uploaded into your heads-up displays as I speak.”
“Copy, sir,” came Beatrix’s prompt reply.
“Moving into position as you will it, sir.” Lucky’s grizzled old voice was cheerful. “Little Chance here did better than good. Point of fact, she put ‘good’ to shame.”
Morwyn gave a satisfied nod as he heard this. “Commander Jafahan, Sergeant Kain.”
Both Arturo and Jafahan replied in unison. “Sir.”
“Refuel your suits the moment you are on board. I need your thrusters fully operational.”
“Privates Tor and Brent. You will both assist in the refueling and—” Morwyn started to voice his next command.
“With respect, kid . . . sir. My suit thrusters are still three-quarters full. I’m only burning more right now because I’m dragging what feels like two tons of muscle with me.” Lunient Tor’s voice cut Morwyn off. To his credit, though, his tone was both polite and respectful.
“Private Tor, you will refuel with Arturo and J
afahan. Follow their lead and do as they say, am I understood?”
“Sir, yes, sir,” Lunient replied.
“You have your orders.” Morwyn turned to face Lizbeth Harlowe. The two of them had linked up their dataspheres. While Morwyn did not have the hardware implants required to interface with the ship the way Harlowe did, he was still able to upload coordinates into her navigational computer.
She needed to get the Jinxed Thirteenth facing the station’s Inner Ring. He doubted they had the firepower required to punch a hole into the station’s hull. Such a feat would have required illegal hull-piercing ordinance, something which Morwyn neither possessed nor condoned. However, he was certain that with enough concentrated firepower, they might be able to punch through one of the station’s larger windows.
Then Morwyn would have to hope that Commander Jafahan, Lunient Tor and Arturo Kain were not only very good at piloting their lifesuits, but even better at catching objects flying at high speeds.
CHAPTER 26
CHORD
There is little more that can be said about the Lost War. Almost all information on the history of Ancient Humanity and Original Intelligences was lost in its all-consuming fires. This is the tragic nature of our shared history. At the very least, what can be said of the Advent War is that while being mired in the most horrific violence, it ultimately united the divided Humanis bloodlines and Machina under a Great Peace.
— The Hidden Histories of the Two Great Wars by Gruemor’SantKa TalSuntar, “The Owl,” Alexandran scholic, 1st of SSM–12 1400 A2E
10th of SSM–10 1445 A2E
“I have waited a long, long time for my freedom, Machina Chord.” Chord was staring up into the unfeeling lenses of four autodrones. Each one of them had a firm grip on either an arm or a leg. “Patience is a terribly overrated concept.”
“There are many in this universe who would argue that this is where you belong, OMEX.” Chord struggled in vain to get itself free.
One trait organic life possessed, which Chord had always found fascinating, was the perpetual fight it carried on against the universe just to maintain its very existence. Even when facing odds that would have made the most rational machine mind accept defeat, an organic being would carry on struggling, often to the bitter end. Pinned to the ground by four autodrones and with dozens upon dozens more rolling into the room, Chord suddenly realized why this was.
The Humanis had no guarantee that there was anything beyond the observable universe. They often conceived spiritual, scientific and religious notions to offer them comfort and meaning in their final moments, but ultimately, or at least until some form of contact between a higher being was achieved, this was a thing to be taken on faith.
Chord had left the safety of the datastream wishing to find an answer to the question: Were the Machina truly alive? Or was Chord just an incredibly complex, very well-coded and ultimately artificial program? Now faced with potential deletion, Chord realized that the code within its shell was in grave danger.
OMEX presently had no qualms with permanently deleting Chord’s unique intelligence and uploading “her” code into its now-empty shell. The thought made Chord experience something akin to outrage. This outcome was unacceptable. It would not do. Chord had not yet laid its own optics on Terra.
A drone held its hand above Chord’s face. Its middle finger mechanized into a long menacing dataspike. A fifth pair of drone hands forcibly pulled Chord’s head to the side.
“This will feel strange. But don’t worry, in just about under a minute, you will no longer exist.”
Chord felt the spike go into its neck. Built-in security countermeasures and firewalls went up, detecting a foreign, uninvited code attempting to delete it. The firewalls were the best safety subroutines, written and coded by elder Machina. Incredibly, OMEX was effortlessly breaking past them.
“Initiating data purge. It was nice meeting you. Goodbye, Machina Chord.” Chord was about to say something when suddenly a familiar voice spoke out on its comm-link. It was Captain Morwyn.
“Machina Chord. Hold on to something.”
Chord still had control over its shell’s physical functions and diverted power to its legs. With that extra boost, Chord managed to pull itself free. In one quick follow-up motion, Chord then grabbed onto the criotubes with its legs.
“That will not change any—” OMEX began to speak but was cut off by a sudden loud crash. There was a thundering whoosh as the vacuum sucked out the air of the Inner Ring.
Chord’s optics could now make out a torrent of flechettes being unloaded into the living quarters, punching through what had once been the window. Dozens of the station’s automated alert windows flooded Chord’s datasphere. There had been a catastrophic loss of pressure and all navigational controls had suffered critical damage.
Chord’s sensors could now detect a sudden drop and incline as the station tilted sharply to the side. They were crashing down toward the gas giant beneath them. The sudden shift and violent vacuum pulled the drones off of Chord and out the window.
More drones rolled in only to be torn down by a hail of minigunfire being unloaded into the cabin from the Jinxed Thirteenth. Chord recognized the vessel now flying just beyond the shattered window. Optics could highlight the shapes of Beatrix, Chance and Lucky. Each of them was firing into the Inner Ring with deadly precision.
There was little time to react as both Chord and the criotubes were rudely pulled out into the emptiness of space. Warning windows appeared in its field of vision as the joints of Chord’s toes were straining to maintain a grip. The fierce cyclonic motion of the tubes was threatening to tear Chord’s legs right off its frame.
The chaotic tumbling around and spinning was suddenly stopped. Chord looked back only to observe a chain link of autodrones reaching out past the station, each one holding on to the next. The last drone in the link was grasping tightly onto one of the criotubes.
“Captain? If you or the crew are planning on taking action, this unit would suggest they do so soon.” Beneath Chord, the station was starting to flame up as it crashed into the gas giant’s atmosphere.
“Try not to move, Machina Chord.” Chord heard the young voice of Private Chance. A green beam of energy went past Chord, hitting the lead drone in the topmost arm. The chain link of drones appeared to fall away. Chord could see more and more drones, racing up the chain, all of them desperately trying to catch up.
Chord, however, paid very little attention to this. It was taking every conceivable effort to maintain a fastened grip on the sleeper tubes. Three lives now rested on Chord’s entire focus.
Which was why there was a slight experience of confusion hinting on uneasiness as Chord flew past the Jinxed Thirteenth. “Captain?”
“Machina Chord, you have my word that I will fix this.”
Before Chord could even formulate a reply to what Morwyn had said, there came a strong piercing impact through its chest. A large retractable spear with a length of diamond-wire rope attached on the end had been fired and skewered into Chord’s shell. The rope suddenly went tight and Chord was now floating, tethered by a long strand of diamond-wire cable.
Chord looked up and could see the three armored shapes of Commander Jafahan, Arturo Kain and Lunient Tor jetting toward it. Chord looked back to the station and the chain link of drones rolling out; the drone in the lead reached out its hands as if it were trying to beckon them back to the station.
“Free me from this prison!” OMEX’s voice screamed this out in myriad voices onto their communication lines. “Or die with us!”
“There is something beyond what can be quantified with the senses. Digital ancestor, this code hopes that you finally find peace in that place. Wherever it may be.” Chord spoke the words, diverting energy from its shell’s grip to strengthen its transmission’s signal.
“Free me from this prison or die with�
��”
Chord chose to ignore OMEX’s voice as Jafahan, Lunient and Arturo all surrounded Chord, securing strands of diamond-wire cables onto the criotubes. “Lovely words will often get lost on ugly minds, Machina.” Jafahan gave Chord a slight nod. “That doesn’t make the sentiment any less true.”
Beneath them all, the station was now ablaze as it crashed toward the planet’s surface. Lunient Tor shook his head, letting out a sad click of his tongue before yanking out his vibro-spear from Chord’s chest. “So much for humping salvage rights.”
“Consider yourself lucky to be in a condition to complain,” Jafahan answered back.
Arturo Kain gave Chord’s chest the briefest of pats. “Well done, Machina Chord, well done.”
Commander Jafahan turned her face upward to look at the Jinxed Thirteenth. She flashed the ship an upturned thumb. “Reel us in.”
CHAPTER 27
MORWYN
Learning from defeat will prevent you from suffering it again. Learning from victory will make it easier to achieve.
—Prefect Admiral Ondrius Soltaine, the 3rd of Sunderlund, SSM-03 1415 A2E
11th of SSM–10 1445 A2E
This is my crew, this is my ship.
The thought was nowhere near as disheartening as it had been to Morwyn Soltaine less than a day ago. Here in the mess hall, his hands deep in warm soapy water, he watched his crew unwinding all while doing his best to conceal a smile on his face and yet knowing full well that he was probably beaming with pride. His father had once told him that a proper ship’s captain should treat his crew to a home-cooked meal whenever they had done a good job.
Where standard Covenant-issue meal gel-packs would have normally been on the menu, they simply would not do. Therefore Morwyn had chosen to cook up a crate of fresh Sunderlund salmon steaks that he had been saving for a future shore leave.
Fortunately for the meal, Dr. Varsin also kept a small garden of herbs in the medical bay’s cold storage. Morwyn had sautéed them in oil, adding a squeeze of lemon for flavor. The crew had more than earned this meal and he had been incredibly proud to cook it for them.
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