by Crucible
“I don’t care. I am already dead,” Christmas informed him.
Driver shouted out. “This is Flight Captain Matthew Driver of the Pathfinder Ship Pegasus
.”
Silence.
“Is Trajan with you?” Goneril Lear called out.
“I’m right here, mother,” Trajan called out. And he alone had the presence of mind to activate an auxiliary lighting panel, and suddenly they were all illuminated.
“Trajan!” Goneril Lear called out with as much emotion as anyone had ever heard from her.
Trajan stepped into the light where he could get clearer view of her. “Damn it Mom, you look like Hell. And, I’m speaking as someone who has actually seen Hell.”
“Chronos universe,” Driver muttered.
“I am fine,” Goneril Lear insisted.
“You are not fine,” Trajan yelled back at her. “I’m guessing you have a minor skull fracture, and probably some bleeding in the brain. If we don’t get you to a medical technician, you’ll be dead in an hour, two at the most.”
“I… am not feeling well,” Goneril Lear conceded. “But, first, we must reactivate the BrainCore.”
“Neg,” said Christmas. “The BrainCore is dangerous. It nearly destroyed the ship I will not allow you to reactivate it.”
“The BrainCore is essential. If we don’t activate it, we lose the ship,” Goneril Lear objected.
“It’s too late,” Scout told them. “The initialization is 70% complete.”
Pegasus – Commander Keeler’s Quarters Prime Commander Keeler straightened the front of his uniform jacket. “Do I look sober enough to return to the Bridge?” he asked his ancestor.
“You have never looked that sober,” Dead Keeler told him.
Keeler grunted in reply as the edge of the COM Link turned into the blue outline signaling Incoming Message, then activated. It was Change. “Commander Keeler, report to Primary Command. All stations upgrade to Battle Situation 2.”
“I am en route,” Keeler told her. He turned to the dead man. “At least the timing is good for once.” He turned back to the COM Link. “Lt. Alkema, I’m probably going to need you on the Bridge.”
“Already there, sir,” Alkema answered.
Pegasus – The UnderDecks
The Telepathic Rat stood over the bodies of four of his guard rats and their torn-out throats.
He regretted the marginal decrease in the effectiveness of the disease vector, and his own bad judgment in assigning guards who could be murdered by a mere feline.
Now, we must recover the test subject, he thought. It could not have gotten far. The Telepathic Rat had only ancient racial memories of the human pain and suffering inflicted by the viroid life forms he and his progenitors had sustained in their blood throughout the centuries. He was eager to see it for himself.
Divide, my legion into six parts, proceed through the closest ventilation shafts and access ducts, above, below, and to the four sides of the chamber. Find the specimen, and return him to his chamber.
The rats it controlled peeled off in formation, counting off by sixes. Amid their own chittering, the did not hear the thing approaching until it was only a few meters away, moving through the adjacent conduits, making a dry crunching sound as it moved over the structural panels. When the Telepathic Rat finally did hear it, it came to the conclusion it was supposed to. “X-Term-O-Bot,” it hissed within its mind. Deal with it.
Twenty rats split off from various cells and formed an attack unit, heading into the adjacent corridor. The coordinated attack had been sufficient to first disable, then dismember, the previous X-Term-O-Bot they had encountered.
Destroy it!
The crunching sound stopped, replaced with the insistent rat-a-tat of pulse weaponry and sudden rodent shrieking, the latter cut hideously short by the former.
The crunching resumed.
The Telepathic Rat squinted. This model of X-Term-O-Bot must have been more advanced than the previous one. Perhaps they had a way of transmitting upgrade data to each other. He began to consider in what horrible way he would deal with this, when the approaching thing cast a hulking, terrible shadow on the wall around the corner.
What is this? Thought the Telepathic Rat.
And then it came around the corner. It was just over a meter tall. It had tank treads for feet, and two pairs of huge metal arms. One pair ended in a pointed cluster of weapons, the other two in three-digit, articulated claws. From the top of its chunky metal torso, the head of a gray and white cat poked out, wearing an improvised battle helmet. The two weapon-laden arms filling the shaft with tiny bolts of electric death.
“Eat ion-coated death, vermin scum!” Queequeg growled. Plasma blazed from the gunports at the end of his arms. An immediate stink of ozone and seared ratflesh filled the shaft.
Nine hundred and some odd rats panicked, tearing out in a horrific melee of shrieking and scurrying. Queequeg continued firing, his weapons taking out dozen of the small, gray-brown, disease-infested rodents, drawing ever nearer to the big one in the center.
Ah, his instinct is his weakness, thought the Telepathic Rat . If he killed me outright, all would be lost, but he must play with me first. He can not defy his nature.
“I heard that,” said Queequeg. And he fired off a few pulses just above Telepathic Rat’s head, blowing out a power juncture, creating a blinding pyrotechnic display followed by complete darkness.
“Say your prayers, varmint,” Queequeg snarled, leveling the weapon cluster at the rat. He took aim. He flexed against the trigger and prepared to terminate the vile creature’s existence.
And so it would have been, unfortunately, at that point the Ex-Term-O-Bot’s micro-missile reserves zeroed out, A crackle and spark emitted from the back of the X-Term-O-Bot. The pulse weapons gave out a few pathetic, random spits, then died entirely and Queequeg was left completely without ammunition.
“Crap!” hissed the cat. He began to back slowly back into the conduit. Then, he spun around and into a full retreat, hissing and cursing against humans and their inferior-grade X-Term-O-Bots.
Pursue and destroy him! Shrieked the Telepathic Rat (mentally – but with such ferocity, a number of the more sensitive crew would have nightmares about rats that night). He is one. We Are Legion.
Pegasus – Main Bridge/PC-1
Alkema was already on the Bridge, looking as though he had pulled his uniform together in a hurry. “Aves Ginger was on a deep probe along the vector of the ship we detected leaving the planet. It detected something in the sun’s corona, at the edge of its scanning range. Flight Lieutenant Fox altered course for a close range scan.” Alkema signaled to American.
In the forefront of the ship, a holographic display showed the corona of the system’s primary star, from which dozens of alien ships were emerging.
“What the Hell?” Keeler whispered gruffly.
“Sixteen large ships, and hundreds of fighters,” Alkema reported.
Hologram lasers drew the ships in the forepart of the main bridge. The large ships were half-moon shaped, but not all identical. The bulges and protrusions at the centers of their crescents varied in thickness and length. The hundreds of smaller ships, blade-shaped, also varied in sized and in the thickness of their hulls.
Keeler sized up the situation. “Have they detected us? If they haven’t, our best tactical option is to stay put.”
“Prime Commander, if they move out, there is no way we can defeat that many ships,” Lt.
Cmdr. Honeywell advised. He projected his calculations onto a large display. “If we deployed all our Accipiters and Aves, laid out our ordnance, we could hold them off Pegasus long enough to escape , but there’s no way we can save Lexington Keeler.”
“I’ve laid in a course out of the system,” Lt Navigator Change advised. “If the acceleration curve of the ship that launched from the surface is typical, we can still outrun those ships if we have a head start, but if they move out first, we lose that option.”
“But we can’t run,” Alkema said. “There are 352 people on Keeler, and 57 people on the planet’s surface.”
“And over six thousand on Pegasus,” Lt. Navigator Change was adamant. “409 to save 6300, those are odds I can live with.”
Alkema thought of Sam Jordan. “The heart of our Technical Core and Warfighters are among the 400.”
“Unless you have an idea of how to defeat those ships, staying here means complete destruction,” Change answered. “The 409 are dead anyway, the question is whether we’ll be dead with them.”
“Mr. Alkema, Arm Nemesis missiles,” Keeler said. “Bring all weapons to hot standby and lay in targeting solutions on all of the capital ships. Standby Hammerhead missiles for the little ones. Lt. American, get everyone evacuated from Keeler and the surface.” Alkema and American answered in the affirmative. Change glared at him. “You’re going to kill us all,” she growled.
“Za, maybe,” Keeler agreed. And he would have said, “but…” but he really didn’t have anything other than “maybe I won’t,” to follow it up with.
Keeler – Secondary Command Center/SC-2
A display on Scout’s datapad showed how complete the BrainCore initiation was.
95% … 96%…
Synch Christmas briefly considered blasting the BrainCore with his pulse weapon, but it would have been futile. The shielding was too thick.
97%… 98%…
Muffy wondered if either of the two guards, the tall skinny geek, or the hot technician would be interested in a quick snog before Lex killed them all.
99%
Trajan wondered why no one had sent his mother to a Medical Bay. Then, he pitied whoever might have tried.
Scout’s readout reached 100%.
For a second after that, nothing happened.
Then, twists of light began to rise from the center of the BrainCore. The Consciousness of Lexington Keeler, took physical form in the shape of a giant, glowing head, or, more accurately, the neon-blue outline of a head with large, gold, glowing eyes; a synthesis of human and cybernetic forms.
Christmas leveled his weapons at the juncture where the ship’s BrainCore connected with the control systems. “If you attempt to access the ship’s weapon systems, I will destroy the nerve juncture.”
Lex’s voice came from everywhere at once. It had a distinct, cultured rasp to it that would have done justice to the most elite and erudite of Republic’s ruling class.
The Feedback from the Blast would destroy the ship’s BrainCore, rendering the entire ship unsalvageable.
“That was my thinking,” Christmas said.
“What is going on here?” Goneril Lear demanded.
Mr. Christmas has a long history of doubting my benevolence.
“Lex has been methodically eliminating the ship’s crew,” Christmas insisted.
I have done no such thing. If anything, I have used my mighty intellect to protect and guide the puny humans on this ship,
“Puny humans?” thought everybody.
“We lost 160 people on Electra after the Electroids activated your consciousness,” Christmas said.
An accident, and a misunderstanding over which I had no control. If had been functioning at my full amazing capacity, I could have prevented the misunderstanding and prevented most of the regrettable deaths of those puny humans
“Then, we lost another 307 people on Wolf’s Head,” Christmas continued.
Wolf’s Head was an extremely dangerous environment for which the crew, being puny humans, was not adequately prepared.
“We lost another sixteen to the Mind Plague.”
“Mind plague?” Driver asked.
“I didn’t tell you about that yet,” Christmas said, not taking his glare off the hologram of Lex.
It was my awesome intelligence that helped you find the cure to the Mind Plague.
“Then, we lost thirty people on Surya Numaskar.”
Lost is the operative word, isn’t it? We never did arrive at a satisfactory explanation for their disappearance.
“We left behind 1,600 people at Arkangel,” Christmas reminded him.
By their own choice.
“We lost over 2,000 when the command towers were hit.”
Due to an alien attack over which I had no control.
“There was a shield failure just before impact.”
Affirmative. The shielding failed due to a previously unknown design flaw. The defensive energy shield on a Pathfinder Class starship are subject to random polarization failures when subjected to microfluctuations in directed electromagnetic pulses.
“That’s technobabble,” Christmas sneered.
Scout spoke up. “Well, it’s plausible technobabble.”
“Regardless,” said Lex. The image of a big giant head vanished and was replaced with a schematic of the alien fleet hiding in the sun’s corona.
This ship and all puny humans aboard her are currently at an insurmountable tactical disadvantage. Unless I am given access to all defensive systems, including the Nemesis missile hatcheries, we face imminent destruction.
An undulating sphere of light appeared, in which Lex presented himself. It began oscillating wildly.
Even the combined tactical resources of Pegasus and this ship would be insufficient to defeat the armada. I recommend use of the Nemesis Warheads.
“Don’t trust him,” Christmas warned.
Lex provided them with holographic displays, showing them the alien Armada, the two Pathfinders, and the long odds of the latter defeating the former. “You have only one chance at survival,” Lex said. “Reactivate my over-ride access to the ship’s weapons of mass destruction.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The Surface
Running footsteps echoed in the long, broad chamber of the Redoubt’s main tunnel.
Warfighter Moon ran past the murals, toward the control complex at the end, where Morgan and a pair of technicians were examining a cluster of bright red and yellow stickers with impressionistic, minimalist renderings of happy faces to try and ascertain their meaning.
“Lt. Morgan!” called up Warfighter Moon. “Lt. Morgan!”
Morgan peered over the side of the catwalk outside the Control Level with a peevish expression. “What is it? Has that storm front changed course or speed?”
“More than that, ” Moon told him. “Pegasus has ordered immediate evacuation.” Morgan answered, with frustration. “We’re just beginning to make progress here. They better have a damn good reason.”
“They detected 300 alien attack ships in close orbit of the system’s primary.” Morgan thought this over a quick second, then turned away from the cat walk. “Anansi, Ing, Omega, Honda pack up your gear. We’re evacuating the planet.”
Lexington Keeler – Hangar Bay Alpha
Duke also got the Evacuation order. “Confirm, Pegasus. Immediate evacuation. Duke, out.” When the COM Link closed he told Technician Sperry to put him on Shipwide Link.
“Attention all repair teams, this is Lieutenant Duke. Tie off whatever you’re working on and return to the Hangar Bay for immediate dustoff to Pegasus. Don’t ask any questions, just pack it in and bug it out. That’s all.”
He looked at the ship’s status display. “Look at all the systems coming on-line since Lear got the BrainCore up. We just about got the job done, and they’re commanding us to leave.
How many people do we have out there?”
“340 out in the ship, seven in the command center, and five at SC-2,” Technician Sperry told him. “All of the teams, except for SC-2 have a clear evacuation route.”
“ETA to dustoff?” Duke asked.
“Shouldn’t take more than twenty to thirty minutes to re-assemble them all in the bay, maybe another ten to load the Aves.”
Duke looked around his command center. “Secure all your stations and get aboard that Aves.” He paused. “You all did a damn fine job.” With that, he sat down at one of the control stations.
“Why do I g
et the feeling you’re staying?” asked Technician Sperry.
“Because I am,” Duke answered.
The technician pondered this. “There really is no smart reason to stay here, sir.”
“I know that,” Duke replied. “I’ve decided to stay here for a stupid reason.”
“Would that be ‘I’ve invested too much time and hard work in this ship to abandon it even though remaining here means possible death?’” Sperry persisted.
“That’s a pretty good summation,” Duke agreed. “I don’t intend to die. I intend to keep these systems up, until you guys get back.” He began running through the ship’s emergency systems. “Meanwhile, I’m going to see if I can find five escape pods near the BrainCore and bring them on-line.”
Pegasus – PC-1
American signaled Alkema. “Ginger is transmitting new telemetry on the alien fleet.” The holographic projection updated, showing that a few of the ships in the fleet had adjusted their positions.
“What are they doing, Mr. Alkema,” Keeler asked. “Are they preparing for an attack? Have they detected us? Or are they just moving around randomly.”
“I can’t say,” Alkema answered. “Some of the smaller ships have moved into positions tight and behind the larger ships, but these two groups have moved away slightly,” he pointed to the different ships in the holographic projection.
Keeler’s teeth set to grinding. “Can’t we get better data than this?”
“We could set out more probes, or another flight of Aves,” Alkema told him. “But that would almost definitely ensure they would detect us.”
“That’s where the original ship headed when it left the planet,” Keeler challenged him.
“Don’t you think they know we’re here?”
“Probably, but the key thing is to not let them know that we know they’re out there.” Alkema frowned. “They haven’t attacked us yet. They must be waiting on something.”
“Like what?” Keeler asked.
Alkema had no way of knowing. “A signal? Reinforcements? More data on us.” Keeler stared at them. “What about a first strike. Could we take out all of them before they became a threat to us.”
