by Doug Farren
Approaching the copilot, Tom noticed a small bit of plastic protruding from the back of the chair. Closer inspection revealed that it looked like the handle of a tool. Looking in the space behind the copilot’s back he could see where blood had soaked into the back of her suit.
The paramedic had attached a medical monitor patch on the copilot’s neck and was looking into her eyes with a small flashlight. “Look at this,” Tom said, pointing to the back of the chair.
The paramedic looked at the blood-soaked suit as well as the plastic sticking out of the back of the chair. “Looks like a screwdriver,” he said. “Can you get her out of here chair and all?” he asked.
Tom glanced under the seat while the Orion’s AI did some of calculations. A moment later, having received confirmation from his ship that the combined weight of the chair and the copilot would not be too much for him, Tom replied, “I can.”
The paramedic made sure the copilot’s straps were tight then said, “Okay, let’s get her out of here.”
“Stand back,” Tom said, drawing his pistol.
Kneeling down, he took aim and fired four quick shots, severing the bolts holding the chair to the floor. Approaching the back of the chair, he lifted it straight up. Instead of turning around so he could walk forward, Tom issued a command to his cybernetics. The view behind him appeared as if projected on a screen in front of him. He could see Lashpa and another technician waiting just beyond the door. Walking backward, Tom carefully carried the chair to the door and then through it. As soon as she was able, Lashpa grabbed the chair and helped carry it to the waiting medical ship.
Outside, Tom and Lashpa looked around at the scene of the disaster. Wreckage was scattered everywhere. A few small fires still burned in isolated spots. These were being systematically put out by the three bright blue firefighting vessels that had arrived. The bright red medical ship they had just exited lifted off behind them and took to the air.
“This should not have happened,” Tom said, shaking his head. “Nothing in their manifest could have done this.”
“Agreed,” Lashpa replied. “It’s going to take the investigators a long time to figure this one out.”
“Could it have been a bomb?”
“What purpose would blowing up a shuttle serve?” Lashpa asked.
“Who knows,” Tom replied, throwing his hands in the air. “Earth is filled with all sorts of crazy people who think blowing things up is a good way to get their point across. Where did the cargo originate?”
“Nasu K’Tral.”
“That’s a Shandarian world.”
“I don’t know about you,” Lashpa said, “But I’ve had enough excitement for today. I need to get out of this armor and find some fresh air.”
“There’s a nice park not far from the starport,” Tom said. “Chess?”
“I’ll meet you there in an hour.”
Chapter 7
“The Churva is in orbit,” the Orion announced.
Tom welcomed the interruption. He and Lashpa had spent the last two days digging through the data that was beginning to arrive. So far, nothing pointed to a pattern of infection and he was starting to get frustrated.
As far as the investigators could determine, Ferny Corbal had lived a very boring life. He worked at the same company for over 35 years designing advanced stardrive systems for the Shandarian military. Identicard records confirmed he had never left Shandar. In fact, the last time he left the city was over five years before his death when he traveled a few hundred kilometers to attend a company-sponsored conference. The disease had apparently come upon him quickly. Investigators were expanding their search to include his two children and other relatives who may have visited him.
“This is going to get ugly very fast,” Tom said, shoving the monitor displaying his latest attempt to find a pattern to the infections out of his way.
“Can you clarify?” Orion asked.
“We’re going to have to look into the lives of not only the person who died, but also everyone that person ever interacted with as well everyone those people interacted with. We’re dealing with a geometric expansion of information. There must be some way to limit how many layers of interaction we’re going to have to process.”
“Why go to all the trouble? The Omel believe T11-N106 is not contagious.”
“Then how do you explain the pattern of deaths?” Tom asked. Getting up, he started pacing around his stateroom.
“Perhaps with the samples Biomaster Flothir obtained, the Omel can identify how the pathogen is spread.”
“They’d better hurry before I’m forced to look into the backgrounds of virtually every person in the Alliance,” Tom said. “What’s the status of Nathan Smally’s body?”
“En route to the Churva,” the ship replied. “The shuttle will be aboard in about 10 minutes.”
“That was quick.”
“Nathan’s body was loaded on a shuttle as soon as word was received that the ship had entered the system. Biomaster Flothir is aboard as well.”
“I’m tired of just sitting around reading reports,” Tom said. “Fire up the main reactor and inform the tower we’re lifting off. Tell the Churva I’m on my way.”
There was a short delay as the ship complied with the order. The quiet hum of the auxiliary reactor increased in volume as power was fed into the main fusion reactor. Tom went to the galley and grabbed a quick snack then headed for the control room as the ship prepared itself for flight.
A few minutes later, the Orion reported “Main reactor is lit and ready for use. The tower has been informed. We are cleared to lift at any time. Shall I inform Lashpa?”
“Of course. She doesn’t have to tag along but I’m assuming she’s just as bored as I am.”
“According to her ship, you are correct.”
Tom sat down in the command chair and activated the propulsion system. The Seeker-class starship rose into the air, paused for a moment as the landing struts retracted, then continued straight up into the clouds. A short while later, the ship entered the vacuum of space.
“External view,” Tom ordered.
Tom’s vision shifted. The control room, along with its banks of display screens and switches, vanished as the ship took control of his cybernetic eyes. He was now floating in space. Looking down, he saw the gently curved surface of the Earth as it spun below him. Above, and to his left was the moon. The blackness of space was filled with bright pinpoints of light, some of them stars, others ships. Tom relaxed and enjoyed the show. A few minutes later, the Orion asked Tom to look to his left. When he did, he saw Lashpa’s ship flying in close formation with his own.
A second later, Lashpa appeared next to him, floating in space as if the vacuum and hard radiation didn’t concern her at all.
“I was just about to call you when my ship said you were preparing to lift,” she said. “Have you read Biomaster Flothir’s report?”
“I tried,” Tom admitted. “Biology has never been my strong suit. I take it you did?”
“Yes. It contains a large amount of interesting information but little to help in our investigation.”
“Hopefully, Flothir can learn more when he performs the autopsy on Mr. Smally. What we really need is a cure.”
“Agreed.”
One of the pinpoints of light was expanding and could now be clearly identified as a ship. “I still think,” Tom said, “that chasing after this disease is a waste of time. Somewhere out there,” he waved his hand towards the blackness of space, “is another civilization that appears to be on the verge of declaring war on the Alliance. We should be trying to figure out who they are.”
“At the moment,” Lashpa replied, “the only evidence we have of this other civilization is the disease. Learning all we can about it may help us learn about them. You do realize there’s another possibility.”
“And that is?”
“T11-N106 could have been produced by an advanced biology lab somewhere within the Alliance. If so, then iden
tifying the pattern of known infections might allow us to determine the source.”
“You’re right, of course,” Tom admitted. “But I prefer to be doing something, not sitting around collecting information.”
Lashpa pointed at the ship they were approaching. “We’ll be docking soon. I’ll see you in a few minutes. Krish, end virtual.”
Lashpa’s image vanished. Tom took another look at the impressive ship they were approaching then instructed the Orion to end the virtual simulation.
“Tactical,” Tom ordered.
His central monitor flipped from a navigational view to a tactical display, the navigational view appearing on another monitor replacing the data he’d been reviewing earlier. A series of numbers appeared next to the icon representing the Churva. Tom focused on only two — Mass: 128,221 tons; Length: 831 meters. Upon seeing these two numbers, he was even more impressed. Most of the science vessels he was familiar with were considerably smaller, massing no more than a few tens of thousands of tons. The Omel science vessel, by comparison, was enormous.
“Docking in three minutes,” the ship warned.
The Churva’s captain was standing in the passageway as the inner airlock cycled open holding his hands at chest height, palms facing Tom, each of his six long fingers spread as wide as possible. “I am Captain Inderi Orflen, welcome aboard the Churva.”
“I’m Peacekeeper Tom Wilks,” Tom replied, duplicating the customary greeting of the Omel. There was a clunk and the hiss of air as the Orion undocked. “My ship will shadow yours at a distance of five kilometers,” Tom continued.
Although Tom’s cybernetic systems automatically compensated, he was aware of the fact that the ship’s lighting was dimmer than he was used to and the temperature was slightly higher. The gravity was also set to something less than what Terrans experienced on Earth. The passageway was wide with a much higher ceiling than a typical Terran vessel primarily due to the fact that the average height of an Omel was a little over two meters. The walls and ceiling were painted in a light pastel blue while the floor was the color of grass. The air was clean and lacked the subtle smells one often detected aboard virtually all starships.
“My executive officer is greeting the other peacekeeper” Captain Orflen said. “I would have preferred to welcome you both to my ship but it is not possible for me to be in two places at once.”
“That’s my partner, Lashpa,” Tom replied.
“I was under the impression that peacekeepers normally work alone.”
“True,” Tom said, moving into the passageway. “But peacekeeper command believes Lashpa and I form a very unique team.”
“If you will follow me, I will take you to the bridge,” Captain Orflen said. “Lashpa will join us there.
Tom followed the captain down the quiet hallway. Many of the doors they passed were closed but a good number of them were open allowing him to glance inside. Most were small rooms with a large work table and a bank of computer interfaces set into a corner. One appeared to be a cluttered laboratory with a complex collection of tiny instruments fixed to a solid-looking table.
“My ship is at your disposal,” Captain Orflen began. “But I’m a bit confused as to who exactly I should be taking orders from. Which one of you is considered the senior individual?”
Tom couldn’t help but smile because he knew exactly how the captain was feeling. “Do you know what gragrakch is?”
“I’ve never heard the word before.”
“It’s Rouldian,” Tom explained, “and it’s exact meaning is a bit hard to understand for non-Rouldians. Lashpa and I are gragrakch, which means that by Rouldian law we are considered as one and the same individual. The Rouldians like to say; two bodies—one soul.”
“An interesting concept. But if you should disagree as- - -”
“Lashpa and I rarely disagree on anything,” Tom interrupted. “If you ever receive conflicting orders from us, feel free to do nothing.”
“I understand,” the captain replied, but after a short pause added, “I think”.
A few minutes later, they reached the bridge. It was the most unusual bridge of any ship Tom had ever seen. The entire forward section was a huge window looking out into the vastness of space. Being a military veteran, Tom was used to the bridge being buried deep inside the ship, usually just forward of engineering. Windows were also something never seen on a military vessel. The Churva’s bridge was the exact opposite of what he was used to. As far as he could tell, it was located at the bow of the ship and was by far the largest and most spacious bridge he’d ever seen.
After staring at the incredible sight, Tom turned to the smiling captain and asked, “Is that an actual window?”
“Impressive!” Lashpa said, as she joined them.
“Yes, it’s a real window,” Captain Orflen replied. “But it’s a lot stronger than you might think.”
“Still—a window?” Tom asked.
“We Omel like to see where we’re going,” the woman who was escorting Lashpa replied.
The captain made a round of introductions. The woman was introduced as Commander Til Sheas, the Churva’s executive officer.
“I’ve never seen a bridge like this on any vessel I’ve ever visited,” Lashpa said.
“It gives us plenty of room to work,” Captain Orflen explained. “This ship is equipped with virtually every remote sensing device known to Alliance science. We also carry a large number of very sophisticated probes. Monitoring all of these systems and directing the information to the scientists wanting to see the data requires a large number of consoles. We don’t like cramped spaces.”
“I can see that,” Tom said.
“So this isn’t just a medical ship?” Lashpa asked, the translator built into her body armor converting her Rouldian words to Galactic Standard.
“Although we are known for our medical science,” Commander Sheas said, “we do not limit ourselves to only the medical sciences. This ship is capable of performing any science mission imaginable from planetary studies to observing stellar events.”
Tom looked around and nodded his head in approval. The Omel had a right to be proud of a ship like the Churva. It was an achievement few other races had managed. “I’m impressed,” he said. “Can you take me to where Biomaster Flothir is working?”
“Of course,” Captain Orflen replied. “I’ve not yet welcomed him aboard my ship and this will give me an opportunity to do so. Please, follow me.”
An elevator with plenty of room for the three of them took them up to the bioscience deck. A few minutes later, they walked into a small room with an observation window looking into a brightly lit, sparkling clean room. Nathan Smally’s body was laying on a shiny table with two individuals dressed in full protective gear hovering over him.
Pointing to a small panel set into the wall, Captain Orflen said, “You can talk to those inside the room using the intercom. I have some ship business I need to attend to. Do you have any orders for me at this time?”
“Not right now,” Tom said.
“Very well,” the Captain replied with a small bow. “If you need anything, just ask anyone.”
“Thank you,” Lashpa replied.
Pressing the intercom button, Tom said, “Biomaster Flothir, can you hear me?”
“I can.”
“Have you learned anything new?”
“No,” Flothir replied.
Tom waited a moment to see if the biomaster would say anything else, then asked, “Are you still convinced that T11-N106 is a bioweapon?”
“I am,” Flothir replied. “Although the pattern of infection does not seem to indicate a common source, the design of the pathogen is more than enough proof for myself and the others on the council.”
“Tom?” Orion interrupted.
“Proceed,” Tom replied sub-vocally as he muted the intercom.
“Krish and I believe we’ve found a possible commonality associated with the known infections of T11-N106.”
Tom loo
ked at Lashpa and immediately knew she had received the same news. “What have you found?” he asked.
“Your suspicions appear to have been justified,” the ship replied. “We’ve amassed enough evidence to suggest that the pathogen might originate on Gwon-Go.”
“The planet the Purists took over and used as their base of operations against Earth!” Tom said.
Lashpa pressed the button on the intercom to connect them with the bridge. “Bridge,” a male voice instantly responded.
“This is Peacekeeper Lashpa. Tell Captain Orflen to set course for Gwon-Go as soon as possible.”
“Aye Sir!”
“I knew it!” Tom said. “Damn Purists always seem to be involved in something.”
Chapter 8
The Army of Humanity (AOH): A terrorist organization that came into existence in 2050 soon after the announcement was made by Earth’s United Nations that it was planning to join the Consortium, the predecessor to the Alliance. The organization used violence in an attempt to disrupt the process. They believe humanity should isolate itself from all contact with non-human cultures to preserve the purity of humans.
“Give us the details,” Lashpa ordered.
“Multi-link enabled,” the Orion told Tom.
The room around them seemed to darken and fade into the background as the AIs took control over the peacekeeper’s cybernetic systems. A white screen appeared.
“Raashid Hamady,” Orion began as the words appeared on the white board. “Purist, Terran male, miner, expert in tunnel engineering. He was on Gwon-Go for some time and left when the AOH evacuated the planet. Qui Lijuan, Terran female, peacekeeper. She was involved in rescue operations on Gwon-Go following the AOH evacuation. Ferny Corbal, Shandarian male, stardrive engineer. His son is a marine. Took part in the help and rescue operations on Gwon-Go. As you can see, all of the individuals have some connection to Gwon-Go.”
