by Jason Hutt
Nick held the crystal out to him. After another moment’s hesitation, Sinclair took the crystal from Nick’s hand.
“Take this and broadcast its contents on an open frequency. Show the galaxy my father’s actions. Let’s show them what the Conglomerate is truly capable of.”
“You’re disgusting,” Henry said, glaring, “Aiding a terrorist, a man who is responsible for the deaths of hundreds of Republic citizens. Dooming so many others to the same fate. I am ashamed to call you my son.”
“Come now, father,” Nick said, “You’ve killed thousands. If what you’re saying is true, I’m merely following in your footsteps. I’ve read these files over and over again as I tried to digest the horrors you’ve perpetrated in the name of profit. I’ve read them so many times that I’ve memorized them. I recall one vividly.”
Nick closed his eyes and tilted his head to the left.
“In limited trials, the serum enhances aggressive tendencies in subjects beyond the point of which they are able to control them. In subsequent combat trials, subjects lose the ability to fight with discipline and follow even the most basic of orders; instead they revert to a base instinct that drives them to destroy any perceived threat, which in this case is any other living thing.
“Those were the words of your project lead. Yet, you still gave the go ahead to do widespread human trials. Why don’t you tell everyone what the results were?”
“This is preposterous,” Henry said, “Commander that data crystal contains top secret information that could threaten the security of the Republic. It must not be broadcast.”
Nick limped back over to his father’s projection.
“You didn’t answer my question, father,” Nick said, “Why don’t you tell everyone what the results were? Why don’t you tell them how many people died?”
“I don’t have to answer to you. You always were a disappointment. You never have understood that there are consequences for your actions.”
“Nothing you could ever do to me would be worse than what I’ve been through these past two weeks. You don’t scare me anymore.”
Nick felt like he was supposed to be angry, but he felt strangely calm. After a moment, he looked away from his father over to Sinclair. The old man was standing over a console browsing through the files on the crystal.
“You see, Doctor Sinclair, you went about this all wrong. Attacking the Republic with violence won’t get you anywhere. It only turns people against you and hides the real monsters. What you need to do is hold up a mirror and show the people who the monsters really are. Send those files out, Doctor. Send them to everyone.”
Sinclair nodded and, moments later, activated the broadcast.
“Commander!” Henry yelled, “Stop that transmission!”
Commander Dorn had watched all of this with an impassive glare, but as Henry shouted orders at her, she visibly recoiled. She gestured at her communications officer and the projection faded away.
***
“You do not give me orders,” Dorn bellowed.
Henry had a hard time taking her seriously. She seemed like too many other self-important career government flunkies. But, he needed her support here. There was too much at stake.
“I apologize, Commander,” Henry said with practiced sincerity, “I overstepped. You must forgive me. My son’s involvement in this has me a bit unsettled.”
The Commander’s expression softened slightly.
“That is understandable,” she said.
“Are you familiar with Project Vanguard?” He asked.
“Should I be?”
“It is designated priority one by the Defense Department,” Henry said, trying not to let his impatience show, “My son stumbled onto those files without knowing what he had found. Those files cannot be released to the public. This transmission must be stopped.”
The political officer seated to the Commander’s left cleared his throat.
“Excuse me a second,” she said and then muted the audio link. Henry watched as Dorn and her political officer had a brief discussion. Henry tried to look both nervous and remorseful. He didn’t want her to see the excitement that he was barely able to contain.
A chime sounded signaling that the audio link had been restored.
“I believe I understand the situation now, Mr. Papagous,” Commander Dorn said, “We will do what is necessary to stop the transmission. And we’ll do what we can to get your son out of there.”
“Thank you,” Henry said with a relieved smile.
***
“They’ve launched missiles,” Sinclair reported.
A tactical projection appeared above the conference table. A blue, wireframe model of the entire compound hovered over the tabletop. Sinclair sent a few commands and missile batteries deployed from the tops of the towers along the perimeter of the landing field. Within seconds, intercept missiles fired.
The projection zoomed out with dizzying speed and the Republic missiles appeared as incoming red dots, streaking towards the compound. The interceptors quickly met them and the Republic missiles disappeared from existence.
Sinclair smiled and Nick let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. When he did, pain flared in his abdomen and he dropped to one knee. Max scurried over and helped Nick into one of the chairs around the table. He looked Nick in the eye.
“You did good, kid,” Max said, “I’m proud of you.”
***
“Commander,” Henry implored, “Please, time is of the essence. Perhaps you could just deactivate the jump beacon and prevent the transmission from leaving the system.”
“I will not cut off my only link with the rest of the Republic,” she said, “I assure you we are working to resolve this situation as quickly as possible. Now please, let me do my job.”
“My apologies, Commander.”
Dorn seemed satisfied and looked toward an unseen crewmember.
“Are we in range for a plasma barrage?”
“We will be in less than a minute, ma’am,” the crewman responded.
“Launch when we’re in range. What’s our window?”
“Five minutes, ma’am.”
“Rain fire on them until they go dark and if they don’t, drop us down into a lower orbit and bring us around for another pass.”
***
“What is it?” Nick asked.
Sinclair was furiously sending commands through his console. The tactical projection shifted to an image of the landing pad. Twenty-four pristine shuttles and the Hannah sat there. There was no movement on the pad; it might as well have been a still photo.
“Brace yourselves,” Sinclair said softly.
Moments later, streaks of yellow entered the picture and the landing pad erupted in fire. Bolts of plasma rained across the pad and the surrounding mountaintops. Blossoms of fire sprang up across the hillsides. Two shuttles disappeared in a single fireball, leaving nothing but a smoking crater behind. Another bolt sliced through one of the guard towers. The floor of the control room shook slightly.
Plasma charges continued to streak down leaving craters in the landing pad and incinerating anything they touched. The mountain shook as a barrage landed somewhere above them.
Then, another plasma charge struck the back half of the Hannah, melting through the hull. A gaping hole opened on her backside and some of the rear landing gear crumpled. The ship canted; it’s nose lifted in the air.
“No!” Max screamed. “No! Goddamn it! No!”
The barrage stopped. Max stood mouth agape, staring at the image of his wrecked ship.
“I’m sorry, Max,” Nick said.
“Christ, I don’t believe it,” Max said as he rubbed his forehead, “What the hell am I going to do now?”
“I don’t know, but I doubt you were going to do any more shipping runs out here anyway,” Nick said with a wry grin.
Sinclair brought up another projection, this one of Dust from orbit. The orbit of the Republic fleet was highlighted in yellow with
little red dots highlighting the position of the ships. The orbit lines suddenly shifted.
“They’ll be in range again in 30 minutes,” Sinclair reported.
A few red dots had broken away from the main fleet and were now on a re-entry trajectory. Sinclair looked around at his son.
“Francis,” Sinclair said, “Ready your troops.”
Francis nodded and left the room. Wally and Gordo shook excitedly but remained behind. Nick eyed them nervously and then doubled-over as a fresh bolt of pain seized him. His stomach let loose its contents. The room suddenly felt like it was ten degrees hotter.
Max tore his attention from the monitor.
“Doc, please,” Max said, “Give him some regen pills. He doesn’t need to die today.”
Sinclair didn’t turn from his console. He took a deep breath and then shook his head slowly.
“Why should I do that, Max? What makes you think anything has changed?”
“Doc, he just gave you all that data, the stuff you’re now broadcasting to all corners of the Republic. The stuff that’ll help you accomplish what you were really after.”
“Max, be quiet and enjoy the time you have left to live. Expect no other gifts from me today.”
Max gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes.
“Don’t worry about it, Max,” Nick said, “I wasn’t trying to win him over.”
“If I had my atomizer, I’d blast him into a million pieces right now.”
Nick offered him a faint smile. “But those things are still watching.”
Nick pointed at Wally and Gordo who had shifted their attention to the monitors as the feed showed Francis awakening the slumbering army of Sinclair’s creations. They started bobbing from side to side and Max felt a chill run down his spine.
Eleanor tugged at his arm. Max looked away from the creatures and saw that she was pointing to the far wall. Mounted on the wall on the other end of the room next to the elevator doors was a first aid kit. Max patted her head and smiled. He leaned in close to Nick.
“You’re going to be all right, kid. Just hang in there.”
***
Two Republic troop transports swooped in and set down on the far edge of the landing field. The sides and top of each ship quickly slid open and four squads of combat drones spilled out onto the field. They immediately fanned out and started making their way forward through the twisted hulks of wreckage that now covered the landing pad.
Once all the drones had deployed, Sinclair activated an electromagnetic pulse. The drones stopped their approach. The monitor showed indicator lights on the drones’ robotic heads switch from green to yellow. Within seconds, the lights switched back to green and the drones continued their approach.
“Damn,” Sinclair said. He established a link with Francis. “There are 32 Howitzer-class assault drones on the pad, advancing in spread formation.”
“Copy,” Francis responded.
The hangar doors opened slightly and Francis dispatched three squads of the creatures. Their advance across the pad was not nearly as choreographed as the drones. Several of the creatures immediately scaled onto the tops of the few remaining transports. Six of the creatures split into groups of two and setup mortar positions.
The combat drones reached the midpoint of the pad and the creatures opened fire. The mortars fired little silver spheres that exploded into clouds of gray mist. The mist latched on to anything it came in contact with and started eating through it. A group of four drones were funneled through some wreckage and then disappeared as the cloud of nanite gobblers ate through their casings.
Another group of drones setup a firing position behind the splayed hull of a destroyed transport. They spewed forth a burst of flame that incinerated two advancing creatures. Elsewhere on the pad a creature leapt from atop a transport onto the back of a drone. It lashed out with its talons and tore the optics from the drone’s head.
The battle was engaged and Sinclair smiled at the carnage. His creations were beautiful. He smiled at the scene that unfolded until plasma charges started raining from the sky.
The Republic fleet was unleashing another wave of destruction upon the compound. Sinclair bashed a fist against the console as two of the mortar teams and the transports they were on disappeared in a gigantic explosion.
Even with explosions erupting around them, Sinclair’s creatures fought without fear. They bobbed and weaved and jumped through the raging inferno and took out the drones that remained. The combat drones were relentless in their forward march, but they couldn’t match the creatures’ bloodlust. Before the last plasma barrage hit the pad, the last of the combat drones had been destroyed.
The console chimed.
“Give yourself up, Doctor,” Commander Dorn said.
“Not until you drag my dead body out of this room,” Sinclair replied.
“You can’t win.”
“Then I’ll take as many of you as I can with me into oblivion.”
***
“Commander, I’d ask that you send in your commando units,” Henry said.
Dorn blanched again and her face briefly flashed from pale white to beet red. She didn’t lash out though; she breathed deeply through flared nostrils. She calmly laced her fingers behind her back and took a step toward the camera. When she spoke, the words were enunciated slowly and precisely.
“You do not give me orders. I am in charge of this fleet.”
“Commander, I am merely observing that our combat drones are proving to be very ineffective against these creatures. It’s clear their combat capabilities are superior. To beat these things and, might I remind you, to shutdown the transmission, we’re going to need to send in better troops.”
“I believe those drones are produced by the Conglomerate,” the Commander said.
“You are correct and believe me when I say that I am disappointed in their performance. We will, of course, use this data to improve their combat algorithms. There have been very few opportunities to collect data from live engagements.”
***
Another round of troop transports arrived at the landing field, this time accompanied by armored vehicles. Dozens of flesh and blood soldiers swarmed out on to the landing field with two hovertank units providing covering fire. Within seconds, the pad was ablaze with conflict.
Sinclair’s entire army of creatures poured onto the pad, moving swiftly into combat positions. The Republic tanks opened fire with plasma barrages aimed at the hangar. A dozen creatures disappeared from existence as the rear of Sinclair’s force was engulfed in flame. A plasma barrage hit the descending hangar door, denting it severely and leaving it stuck halfway open.
Recognizing that they were outgunned, Sinclair’s army charged toward the advancing Republic soldiers. The creatures were a screaming, screeching, writhing mass of black feathers and razor sharp talons. When the soldiers and the creatures engaged in hand-to-hand, close quarters combat, the fighting was brutal and bloody.
Nick, Max, and Eleanor’s eyes were transfixed on the monitors. Gordo and Wally nervously tittered in the background. Nick cast a nervous glance at the creatures. They were brutal killers on the battlefield as they kicked, slashed, and sliced their way through the ranks of the men.
Max turned away from the monitors; his face had paled and he looked ready to throw-up. He put his hands on Eleanor’s shoulders and turned her away from the monitors. She hugged him fiercely.
Nick watched the horrifying scenes through gritted teeth. He watched as a creature jumped onto the back of an unsuspecting soldier, dug its talons into the man’s back and yanked on his spine. The man died screaming. Nick couldn’t stand to watch any longer.
“This is what my father is here for,” Nick said as he tried once again to stand. His legs trembled from the effort and Max had to help him up. “Doctor, this is what my father wants more than anything. And he’s going to take what you tried to use against the Republic and turn it into their greatest weapon.”
Sinclair frowned
and said, “You’re talking nonsense. The Republic doesn’t have the brainpower to create anything half as good as what I’ve done here.”
“Which is precisely why they’ll take it from you.”
“I won’t let them.”
“That won’t stop them,” Nick said, “My father has never been shy about seizing opportunities and that’s what you’ve presented him with here today. Think about the note I quoted earlier. He was making soldiers. That’s what his experiments were about. And now, you’ve given him a demonstration of a soldier far more powerful than anything he was able to create.”
Sinclair finally looked away from the monitors into Nick’s pale, waxy expression. For the first time today, the old Doctor looked uncertain.
“They will come here, Doctor, and take everything you’ve worked on over the decades. They will take your data, your prototypes, and anything else that may help them. They’ll go through every last little nugget of information they can glean from you. They’ll take what you’ve done and turn it into something better. It’s what they do; it’s how they stay on top.”
Sinclair turned back to the monitors and watched as a team of creatures swarmed onto one of the hovertanks. The tank fired off another plasma bolt before the creatures tore open the top hatch and shredded the pilots.
“What you wanted to tear down, Doctor, will only become stronger.”
Nick swallowed. His mouth seemed suddenly full of saliva. He tasted a metallic tang. Sweat was running down his face in tiny rivers. His jaw was clenched tight as he fought through the pain that enveloped him.
Sinclair stood at his console with his head hung low and his eyes closed.
“I know you plan on dying today,” Nick said, “Don’t make things worse for everyone else just because you’ve given up. Don’t give them what they want.”
***
Eleanor stood still as Nick and Max continued their slow walk towards the Doctor. She looked over at Wally and Gordo; their attention was fully on the battle playing out on the monitors. Their heads grotesquely swiveled from one picture to the next. Wally’s head tilted as it watched the first tank get overtaken.
Cautiously, she took a step towards the lift, towards the first aid kit. No one reacted. She looked at Nick. The rag Max had pressed against his wound was now completely red. Nick had started shivering; Max was rubbing Nick’s arms in an attempt to warm him up.
