James Wittenbach - Worlds Apart 06

by Crucible

  “Nasty,” said Queequeg.

  “What the Hell is going on?” Hunter demanded.

  “This doesn’t concern you,” Queequeg told him. “The Telepathic Rat and I are trying to work something out here.”

  You lie to the human.

  “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

  “Excuse me,” Hunter interrupted.

  That is not quite correct.

  “It’s just an expression,” Queequeg told him.

  We are ready now to proceed to the Incubation Phase. For that, our Bacia children require a human host.

  At that point, Hunter yelped. Queequeg swiveled his head to see one of the larger rats chewing on the human’s left earlobe. “Does this concern me yet?” he demanded.

  It is done.

  “Now what?” Queequeg asked.

  We must monitor the specimen for forty two hours to ensure he manifests symptoms of the disease.

  “And what about me?”

  You will be killed, in accordance with the ancient manner with which humans disposed of unwanted felines.

  A hundred rats swarmed over him, pinning him beneath their weight. Queequeg felt a dirty sack pulled over his head and body. Then, he was rolled over onto a squirming mass of rodentia.

  They carried him in darkness through a passage he could not see, and there were no telltale smell to light his way.

  Then he fell, and not a long fall. Even with the bag, he had time to whip around so that he could have landed on his feet.

  But, instead of solid deck, he fell into a cold river of rapidly flowing water. Weighted down with the soaking material, Queequeg began to sink.

  The Surface, at the Edge of the Town

  Johnny Rook was trudging through a marsh when the return order crackled in his headset.

  He had been nearly lost in a thicket of high purple reeds and was relieved to be returning to base. And he was fairly certain, after forty five minutes of searching the brush, that the hairy shape his motion detector had caught had been nothing more than a tree branch blowing in the wind or a loose bit of debris.

  After all, he told himself, as he marched back up the hill toward the town, nothing could have survived what this planet had been through.

  Max Jordan met him at the edge of the patrol zone. “I thought you’d never show up. Did you find that big hairy animal you thought you saw?”

  “The only big hairy animal around here is you, you big stud,” Rook replied. He adjusted his pack. “Seriously, I pounded grass for two hours and didn’t see anything. Let’s get back to camp.”

  Some time later, as they walked on the road back to town, Max Jordan said, “That thing you saw, it might have been a ghost.”

  “A ghost, right.”

  “On Bodicea, the women believed that the biosphere of a planet was a kind of life force, and trauma could cause the spirits of people and animals to get trapped in it, like a bad dream.”

  “How was it like a bad dream?” Rook asked.

  “I don’t know. Like the planet was having a bad dream,” he drew his weapon and checked it. “A lot of the stuff they believed didn’t make overmuch sense to me.”

  “I thought Bodiceans were Iestans?” Rook asked. “Iestans definitely don’t believe in ghosts… or much else.”

  “Yeah, well, as TyroCommander Redfire used to say, get enough women together and they’ll either make-up a religion or go shopping.” Above them, a flight of four Aves broke the cloud deck and flew toward the city.

  “Reinforcements,” Rook said. “Something’s up.”

  They walked somewhat further without talking, then it was Rook who spoke. “So, you and TyroCommander Redfire talk about women?”

  “He says I should learn from his mistakes,” Jordan answered.

  They were quiet for several paces. “I hope he’s all right,” Rook said.

  “He is,” Jordan answered, not really believing it. That kept them silent for several more paces.

  Rook despised silence, especially with the raw wind tearing at his earpiece. “Lieutenant Scout or Lieutenant Taurus?” he said, to break the awkward silence.

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you were stranded on a planet… a better planet than this one… would you rather be with Scout or Taurus.”

  Jordan turned his face toward the red-gray sky, as though reading the answer from there.

  “It would depend on the circumstances. If you were stranded because of a ship malfunction, Scout could probably fix it. If there were any kind of predators or hostile forces on the planet, Taurus could keep you alive.”

  “No hostiles, no ship, purely an aesthetic question.”

  “Then, it doesn’t matter. They are both too old and too good for us.” They were quiet the rest of the way, and when they approached the landing site, Morgan was speaking in front of a holo-map projected on the fuselage of the Aves.

  “About sixty kilometers upriver from our position is a unique rock formation,” Morgan shouted through his breath mask. “A two-tiered waterfall. We believe it to be the site of redoubt, a sort of deep underground shelter the inhabitants of this planet built to shelter themselves from the solar flares.”

  An Aves had found the quadruple mesa formation, but it was inside the blast zone. They still would have gone had not the scans found this much closer redoubt site.

  Morgan continued, “We believe if there is any surviving data on the planet, it will be contained in one of those Redoubts. Tactical Officer Honeywell believes that it is also possible the forces that have been attacking us may be using those redoubts as bases. For that reason, Warfighters will be leading us into the base, supported by Accipiters on low-altitude intercept.

  “There’s still a lot of survey work to be done in the city. I’ve made a list of the two teams I’m taking upriver with me. We will be traveling by ground transport. Assemble in ten minutes.”

  The autoloaders on the Aves James activated, and discharged two armored multi-purpose vehicles onto the planet’s surface. They rode on large wheels each (more reliable, tactically speaking than antigravity hover-pads) and they had great big guns on the back.

  The larger, six-wheeled transports were called “Road Warriors” after a legendary hero of post-Apocalyptic Earth. The smaller, four-wheeled ones were called “Razorbacks.”

  “Rook, you’re driving,” Taurus said, indicating one of the Razorbacks. “Jordan, ride the gun. I’ll ride shotgun.”

  “Shotgun?” Jordan asked.

  “Za, Shotgun… a kind of weapon based on the principle of using small packets of explosive chemicals to fire explosive projectiles. It was used by the early colonists of Sapphire to shoot at the later colonists of Sapphire,” Taurus explained.

  “Kumba yah!” said Rook, jumping into the driver’s seat. The passion of a teenaged boy for a rugged, high-powered motor vehicle was as true and pure as any force in the universe, and at least as dangerous. Taurus took the seat next to him, making it even better.

  As he activated the drive-engine, it occurred to him that if the two of them were on a beach instead of burnt out cinder of a planet, and wearing just enough to cover their nasties instead of full battle gear, and if there was cold-unit of ale in the back instead of a great big gun… this could have been a pretty fantastic weekend.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Keeler – Secondary Command Center (SC2) Technician Scout climbed to the top of the ladder and reported to TyroCommander Lear.

  “There should be four command interlinks between the BrainCore and the ship’s primary systems. They’re all missing.”

  “Missing?” Lear asked. “How could they be missing?”

  “Well, my guess would be someone physically removed them,” Scout answered. “On our ship, we keep a set of spares in the nearest supply locker, but the spares are gone, too… along with most of that deck. I’d recommend having Pegasus send us a complete repair set the next time they dispatch supplies.”

  “I’ll see that it is done
,” Lear told her.

  It may be noted at this point that Lear was only able to remain standing by holding onto an O’Shit handle on the section’s primary bulkhead.

  Pegasus – Command Suite

  Prime Commander Keeler did not like meetings. He disliked large meetings even more. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and this was the reason there were twenty-five people in his command suite.

  Lt. Cmdr Honeywell, Lt. Alkema, and two other officers represented tactical, Chief Churchill and Specialist Sukhoi from the ship’s watch sat in, along with six people from Geological and Planetary Surveys, eight representatives from Technical Core to review what was being fixed on Lexington Keeler and how much more needed to be fixed before the ship was salvageable, plus two more to give condition reports on Pegasus, one analyst to provide status on the forensic examination of the wreckage of the MegaSphere, two more people from flight operations, and Flight Commander Collins from Flight Core.

  Also, the meeting was being broadcast shipwide, to Pegasus and to the Hangar Bay Command Post on Keeler, for anyone who cared to listen in.

  “Good afterdawn, everyone,” Keeler began.

  “Evening,” Alkema corrected.

  “Really?” Keeler said. He shook his head and pinched his eyes. “I have totally lost track…

  Anyway, I don’t think there’s too much I need to fill you in on. To defend against further attacks, Pegasus remains at Battle Situation 1. We are maintaining continuous battle readiness on all defensive systems. We have tasked four Aves and eight Accipiters to continuous combat air patrols around our ship. How are you groups holding up, Flight Commander Collins?”

  “Kicking ass,” Collins answered. “All Flight Groups report in at full flight capable, and all air crews status themselves at 100%.”

  “What’s the status on damaged ships?” Keeler asked.

  “Two of our birds are wounded. Amy’s back in the nest, and they’re mending her wing.

  Prudence is in worse shape, but they’ll have her fixed up in a few days.” She paused for a moment. “Is there any word on her crew, commander?”

  “Lt. Commander Duke has crews searching for them,” Keeler answered. “We know that they were in a part of the ship that suffered severe structural damage, but if there’s any chance they’re alive, we’re sure they’ll be found.” He heard himself saying this, then realized it might not be comforting enough. “Prayers are always welcome,” he added. “Mr. Alkema and Mr.

  Honeywell will now provide additional details on the current tactical situation.” Honeywell nodded his assent to let Alkema speak first. “It’s been over five hours since the last attack. As you’ve ordered, we’ve maintained a heightened state of alert, and we’re reviewing combat techniques to see if we can make them more effective against additional attacks.”

  “Are you convinced there will be additional attacks?” someone from the Technical Core asked.

  Honeywell fielded that question. “We think the probability is very high. Our defenses may have driven them off, but they could be regrouping. Tactical Core agrees it is best that we maintain the highest possible state of readiness.”

  “How are we preparing for new attacks?” Keeler asked.

  “Battle drills,” Alkema answered. “Our Aves and Accipiters, as well as our defensive systems, are running tactical simulations based on the alien attacks. You should know the mission readiness of our phalanx batteries is at 100%. Hammerhead missile batteries are at 97%”

  “They will be at 100%,” Honeywell added. “A few banks were in the process of being upgraded when we arrived at the system. We’re rushing through the upgrades on the ones closest to completion, and resetting the rest of them to their original programming.”

  “How are manning levels?” Keeler asked. “Do we have enough people?” Honeywell answered. “We’ve tasked every reserve warfighter to Pegasus’s defense. I have to ask, sir, how long we will be expected to maintain this state of high alert.” Keeler looked up at Honeywell, and the others were surprised at intensity of his angry glare. “Until Pegasus is secure from alien attack.” Keeler turned to Churchill and Sukhoi. “Since we have all of our warfighters on tactical duties, could the Watch spare 50 men to conduct security sweeps on the Lexington Keeler? ” Churchill spoke. “I think we can come up with that many, but it’s our entire active duty roster.”

  “I’m still concerned that Aurelians may have boarded Keeler, before, during, or after the battle,” Keeler explained. “Your men have been trained in dealing with Aurelians.” Churchill’s expression was flat, non-committal. Keeler hated that about Republickers. “I’ll need an hour to assemble and brief my watchmen,” Churchill answered finally.

  “Good,” said Keeler. “Now, let’s discuss the status of repairs on the Keeler. ” Technical Specialist Tempest Nasa activated a hologram of the Keeler that stretched the length of the conference table. She stood and went through the status deck by deck, system by system. It took forty minutes, even though over two-thirds of the ship was Status Unknown .

  Among those sections where the status was known, there were more failures than successes.

  Most of the systems were still damaged and inoperable. But news of a successful reactor restart, progress in thruster repairs, and the discovery of additional intact sections provided a little optimism.

  Blaze Omaha from Technical Core wanted to know what the ultimate goal of repairs to Keeler was.

  “The plan is to get Keeler minimally operational so we can get out of this system,” Keeler responded. “Get it structurally stabilized, and get the main drive working so we can get them to a safe system.”

  “After that?” Nasa asked.

  “We’ll send it home,” Keeler answered. “A skeleton crew, maybe some androids, we’ll leave them on board and send the ship back to Sapphire for a complete refit. I don’t want to stay in this system a half-second longer than we have too, nor a leave half-second before Keeler is operational. Can you give me any idea how long that will take?”

  “We still don’t know the extent of damage,” Nasa said. “Deccas anyway.”

  “Can we at least get enough systems on-line so that Keeler can maneuver… defend himself?” Keeler asked.

  “Pathfinder ships are organisms,” Nasa answered. “It’s not enough to get disparate systems up, they have to work in coordination, there has to be …”

  “… a mind,” Keeler said. “The BrainCore… we have to get the BrainCore up. I understand that. Make getting the BrainCore operational our highest priority.” He sighed. “If there’s nothing else, everybody should get back to their duty stations. Thank you all for attending this meeting. I have confidence in all of you.”

  “One final point,” Keeler said as they stood to adjourn. “I have relieved TyroCommander Lear of her responsibilities with regard to salvaging Pathfinder Ship Keeler, and given full command authority to Lt. Commander Duke. Lt. Commander Duke, you may disregard any further orders from TyroCommander Lear. ” Keeler then signaled for Alkema to shutdown the COM Link.

  As the group made their way to the hatch, Keeler spoke again. “Churchill and Sukhoi, Would you remain behind please.”

  Keeler waited until everyone but Alkema had departed through the hatch.

  “TyroCommander Lear has conveyed to me that there is evidence that Keeler was sabotaged before the attack. I would like you to secure seats on the next Aves and investigate.”

  “What manner of sabotage?” Churchill asked.

  “The command and control lines to the Primary Braincore were cut,” Keeler explained.

  “The replacements were completely removed and destroyed,” Alkema continued. “We’re sending replacements over on the Aves Uma on the next resupply flight.” Keeler waved Alkema down. That wasn’t important right now. “The other reason I am sending you to Keeler is to bring back Lear,” he said.

  Churchill seemed mildly surprised at this. Keeler couldn’t have been more surprised at the show of emotion if Chu
rchill had dropped his pants and begun singing Borealan love ballads.

  “You want me to arrest TyroCommander Lear?”

  “She’s already under arrest,” Keeler clarified. “I sent her because I thought her experience overseeing the final construction of Pegasus would expedite the repairs on Keeler. She has not, as far as I have seen, devoted any time to that task. If she isn’t doing any good on Keeler, she may as well be back here.

  “If I sent in a force of Warfighters, she might dig herself in, and that could get ugly,” Keeler went on. “I am hoping that two watchmen can retrieve her without a fuss.”

  “I understand, sir,” said Churchill. “If I may ask, what is your ultimate plan for her disposition.”

  “When we are done here, I intend to escort Keeler back to the Chapultepec Starlock,” Keeler said. “I intend to put Lear off at that station, and let the Odyssey Directorate complete their investigation of the Aurora Incident. I intend to wash my hands of TyroCommander Lear, and promote TyroCommander Redfire to Executive Officer.” Churchill seemed genuinely taken aback at this, “TyroCommander Redfire is lost.”

  “He’s been lost before,” Keeler said. “And he always comes back. Do you understand your orders?”

  “Indeed, I do,” Churchill assured him. “Mr. Sukhoi and I will depart on the same Aves that carries our Watch over. We will escort TyroCommander Lear back to this ship… per your orders.”

  “Thank you,” Keeler said. “You are dismissed.”

  Keeler – The UnderDecks

  The pilot, his protégé, the dead man, and the sex slave came to what had been a ship’s garden. But, the dome had been damaged in the battle, and the soiled blasted with hard radiation. Even though the repair drones had rebuilt the dome, and it held oxygen, it was a cold place, with random stands of blackened trees rising from sterile gray dusty soil.